


Growing to Love

by lily rose (annabeth)



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Crossdressing, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gruesomeness, Het, M/M, Masturbation, Porn, Rimming, Romance, Self-Harm, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Suggestive language, Supernatural Elements, Yaoi, self-injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 26
Words: 78,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/pseuds/lily%20rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The incredibly long mission-fic trying to get Heero and Duo together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I probably missed a bunch of warnings/characters in this, but it's been 100 years since I wrote it or read it, so I apologise!
> 
> I made it to almost 80K before I abandoned it. I always wanted to finish it, but alas.

Duo barely hesitated when he saw the boy with the gun to the brunette's head. He fired his gun, once, twice, three times and was gratified when the boy in the green tank top fell to his knees. Then the girl jumped up and started screaming at him, and he wasn't sure what to do. She was yelling some foolish nonsense about how he shouldn't be shooting -- despite the fact that the guy had been about to blow her brains out! Was she nuts? Then he looked closer at the boy and nearly swallowed his tongue. While ordinarily Duo would have been more into the brunette girl, this guy put all of the prettiest girls he'd seen to shame. He had a feminine look to him, with a mop of dark hair, eyes such a piercing blue that he could tell the color from all the way over to where he was standing.

Duo could not believe how pretty the boy was. He was almost sorry he'd shot him -- almost. But the girl was shouting something else, and he tuned her out, not particularly interested in shrieking females. He shrugged his shoulders, not lowering his firearm, and was shocked when the kid in the green tank top suddenly jumped into the ocean, after what looked like a huge...

Mobile Suit?

~*~ Later that Night ~*~

Duo scratched his head, acknowledging that it was probably almost time for a shower, and tried to make sense of what he'd seen. The girl had been just as startled as he was, if he remembered right. He shook his head to clear it, went to the bathroom and turned the water on for a shower. He couldn't get the boy out of his mind. There had been something intriguing about him that the American couldn't quite place. It was more than just the bluest eyes he'd ever seen and the hair that begged for a combing. It was more than the lean figure clad in a green tank top and spandex shorts. The boy was beautiful, true, but he was also apparently very dangerous. Duo shrugged again, stripped out of his black clothes and stepped into the shower, sighing as the hot water began to smooth out the aches in his muscles and relax him. He would wonder about the boy later -- after dinner and a nap. 

~*~*~ Some Time Later ~*~*~

Duo didn't understand it, first he'd shot the beautiful boy, and now he was rescuing him from the hospital? Duo was beginning to wonder if he'd hit his head on something. But there was still something odd about him -- like the fact that he fell thirty stories, landed on his head, and *walked away* with naught but a broken femur -- which he had set himself, much to Duo's disgust. Duo found himself hopelessly entangled in the mystery of the kid, the boy who turned out to be a Gundam pilot -- like himself -- named Heero Yuy. Heero was an enigma to Duo at first. Duo was extremely irritated by him, and the Wing pilot's lack of emotional -- hell, any -- responses. Then he disappeared after stealing parts from Deathscythe and Duo had half-a-mind to go search him out, beat him up until his beauty was a fading memory, and then kill him. Even though privately he knew that he could not kill another Gundam pilot. Still, he wondered how many there were -- if he and Heero were not the only ones. But that night, Duo dreamed, and in it the gorgeous, feminine pilot made a vibrant appearance. Duo had yet to get used to how pretty he was, and how much he looked like a girl. It was only when Heero finally spoke that he seemed the most male -- he had a low, dangerous sounding voice, not that he used it much. Not only that, but he was violent, threatening to kill people at the slightest provocation. He was a mystery, and Duo wanted to puzzle out the contradiction that was Heero Yuy. If only he'd known then that by trying to understand the other pilot, that by staying close and trying to cultivate a friendship -- if only he'd known that he'd end up falling in love, then he never would have hacked into Heero's records. He did not know how he'd come to care for Wing's pilot, but he knew that every time Heero self-destructed he got a frightened feeling that twisted his intestines into knots. Duo sighed. He hadn't known Heero that long, but already he was actually missing the other pilot. Heero wasn't precisely loquacious, and he was annoying with his constant death threats and his laptop, but at least he was someone to be around. It was at that moment that Heero walked into the room pointing a gun at Duo's head.

Duo jumped off his bed, tossing the manga he was reading aside, and stared incredulously at the Japanese pilot.

"Heero? What is up with you? Why are you pointing -- oh," Duo said, as Heero swung the gun around the room, evidently searching for someone other than Duo. Duo fell backwards onto his bed and practiced glaring at the ceiling -- which is why he missed it when Heero gave him a curious look before packing up the laptop and leaving the room. And again, Duo was alone.

~end Prologue~


	2. Inner Battles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I don't remember what happens in any of the chapters anymore...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *italics*

Duo was frustrated. It had been an awful morning. First, he'd been rudely shaken awake by Heero, who had a *very* frightening look on his face -- a particularly dark scowl. Even Duo had the good sense to know when he should definitely *not* push Heero, so he'd gotten out of bed and dashed down the stairs to make breakfast. Unfortunately, there were no eggs, the cream had curdled, Quatre had drunk all the coffee and when he went to get the bacon out of the freezer it had fallen and whacked him in the head. Finally, swearing, he'd picked up the bacon, thrown it into the sink, and stormed into the hangar to work on Deathscythe. But even Deathscythe was being irritating, as it kept flashing the same error message on its console no matter what Duo tried to fix it. Grinding his teeth, he threw the wrench onto the seat and lowered himself violently out of the cockpit. And came face to face with an extremely pissed off Heero Yuy. It was at times like this, Duo reflected, that being theJapanese soldier's least favorite person was a *very* bad idea.

"Duo," Heero growled, practically singeing his braid with the force of the word.

"Good morning, Heero," Duo attempted cheerfully, but even *he* knew that he was failing miserably.

"Would you care for some assistence in repairing Deathscythe?"

"Ur..." Duo's jaw dropped. The extremely pissed-off-soldier had just offered to *help* him?

"Very well," Heero responded gruffly, climbing into Duo's Deathscythe, leaving the American standing in the middle of the hangar- - speechless. He turned around and looked appraisingly up at Heero, currently ensconced in *his* cockpit, repairing *his* Gundam. He huffed out a huge breath and went off to look for Quatre. 

He found Quatre in what the blond had termed his "music room." He and Trowa were playing their instruments together and Duo paused next to the doorway, not wanting them to see him yet. Everyone had laughed when Duo had asked to listen to them play -- no one believed that Duo might enjoy music. All they really knew about him was that he had grown up on the streets of L2 -- where would he have learned to appreciate it? He closed his eyes and leaned against the doorjamb, listening with surprise when Trowa began to play "November Rain" on the piano. It was an old song, but also one of Duo's absolute favorites. It was a sad song, with an even more depressing video, but it filled Duo with some unnameable emotion. Lost in the music of the two teenagers in the room, Duo didn't even notice that he'd begun to sing along. Quietly at first, the words slipping off of his tongue, the images from the video filling his mind. Gradually he got louder, carrying the tune perfectly and not missing a single beat. Inside the music room Quatre suddenly stopped backing Trowa up on his violin. The blond knew that the violin was not any of the original instruments used in the song, but he and Trowa had managed to create a violin part for Quatre to play. He cocked his head, listening to the absolutely beautiful words being sung out in the hallway. Trowa played a bit longer, then faltered, then continued to play lest the nightingale realize that he was singing aloud. But the green-eyed boy met Quatre's gaze and nodded his head -- it sounded like Duo, but he'd never imagined Duo's voice being so beautiful or so clear. Finally, Trowa played the last few notes of the song, listening as Duo's voice faded into silence. In the hallway, Duo's eyes snapped open as he realized that he'd been singing aloud. He *never* sang -- he was too self-conscious. Which was why, when the two pilots came into the hallway, he blushed to the roots of his hair and began to mumble.

"Sorry, guys, didn't mean to interrupt..."

"Duo," Quatre asked, a note of disbelief barely hidden in his voice, "*where* did you learn to sing like that?"

"Was - " Duo shrugged helplessly, "was it *that* bad?" he cringed, waiting for them to tell him he should be shot for even attempting to sing. So he was thoroughly stunned when Trowa spoke up next.

"On the contrary, Duo, it was incredible."

"Yeah, I never would have guessed - but you never missed a note and your pitch is *perfect.*" Quatre informed him, a smile spreading over his face. Duo peeked up through his ragged bangs, trying to figure out if they were serious or of they were just teasing him for losing himself so completely in the moment. He came to the conclusion that they were, indeed, serious. He gaped, speechless for the second time in one day. Quatre began to giggle when he realized that Duo did not know what to say. 

"Duo, it's okay, would you like to sing with us when we play?" Quatre offered. Duo looked seriously at his blond friend, but then he shook his head.

"Nah, Shinigami don't sing," he cracked, and then took off down the hallway, afraid that one of them would ask where he'd learned to sing. He'd known that he wasn't terrible, but then he hadn't sung in years--!

\--

Duo was lying on his bed, arms crossed under his head, trying to tamp down the memories that were threatening to make him *cry* of all things. He'd been taught to sing by Sister Helen, the only other human being who'd ever actually heard his singing voice. She'd helped him to train his voice somewhat, but he'd never gotten the chance to put her training to use before she'd been murdered. It wasn't the sort of thing that anyone wanted to remember. He sighed and buried his head in the pillow, hoping that maybe he could sleep. That hope was dashed when Heero came into the room. He heard the Japanese pilot pause and he knew that Heero was looking at him.

"Mission accomplished," Heero told the braided pilot stretched out on the bed. Daethscythe's error messages had been malfunctioning and the only thing that was actually wrong with the Gundam was that it was saying it was broken -- when it wasn't. Well, except for the slight malfunction. Heero continued to observe Duo because he knew that Duo didn't know he was watching him. He crossed the room to his laptop, began typing, but his eyes never left the American's back. Something was wrong, Heero felt it instinctively, because Duo was never this quiet. Nor did he ever have trouble fixing Deathscythe. That and Duo had not even replied when he'd callously mentioned that Deathscythe was repaired -- that *he* had done it when Duo could not. Heero sighed and Duo's body tightened at the sound. Finally, Heero stopped typing and walked over to Duo.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he spat out, not intending for it to sound so harsh. In response Duo flipped himself onto his back and met the piercing blue eyes. He looked thoughtful, and a little confused that Heero had sighed. Not to mention the tension that had taken up residence in his spine when Heero had spoken.

"Nothin, Hee-ro, just a little melancholy. PMS, you know?" he grinned at Heero, but the smile did not reach his eyes. His eyes were a smoky violet, and they appeared sad. Heero smacked himself figuratively for even allowing himself to get involved.

"Hm," he answered, finding the wisecracks tedious. The least Duo could do, when Heero was *trying* to be helpful, was lay off the jokes and bad humor. Or maybe that was it -- Duo was just in a bad humor and it would pass.

"Sleep," he ordered the Deathscythe pilot, "Dr. J says there will be a very important mission coming through later."

"Right, Hee-ro," Duo muttered, rolling back over on the bed. Heero continued to stand over the bed, contemplating the pilot lying on it. He was extraordinarily tense, and tense pilots a successful mission do not make. He carefully analyzed the data -- Duo's shoulders were tight, he'd curled in on himself, and he wasn't laughing the way he normally would be. Heero’s brain -- trained to operate much the same way that his laptop did -- came to the inevitable conclusion that Duo would need some assistance relaxing or else he would be useless on a mission. He pondered the matter further and decided that Duo needed a massage. He'd been taught what he had believed were many useless things when Odin and Dr. J had been training him, and the art of massage was one of them. Now he wondered idly whether they had known that he would end up meeting the other pilots. As soon as he recognized the thought as idle, though, he squashed it and then lowered himself gingerly onto the bed. He was liable to get a knife pressed against his neck -- or metal up to his temple -- for even attempting to touch Duo, but he figured he *had* to try. Duo needed to be as fit and relaxed as possible should a battle come up. Heero realized that he was feeling all the classic symptoms of nervousness and quickly took ten deep breaths, restoring his natural, eerie calm. Duo tensed even further when Heero's weight came to rest on his bed, but he refused to look at the Japanese pilot. He didn't want to know what Heero was planning -- he was probably about to put a bullet in his brain, Duo thought dispassionately. Which explained why he nearly fell off the bed when Heero's hands began to rub his back through his shirts.

"Um, Heero, what are you doing?" Duo asked, voice muffled by the pillow he was attempting to smother himself with.

"Massage," Heero responded, as usual not using any more words than was necessary.

"I figured that -- but *why*?" 

"You are tense. That makes you less useful in battle. Therefore, it has become my objective to relax you so that you may rest and be prepared for any situation that may arise."

"Naturally," Duo sighed. He'd thought for a minute that maybe Heero actually cared that he was upset, but no -- it was all about the mission. As usual. Heero carefully worked out the knots in Duo's muscles, running his hands over the American's spine, rubbing gently and then more forcefully until he felt the other pilot relax. What he had not expected was the odd feeling that filled him when he was able to relieve Duo's stress. It felt good to have some sort of physical contact with another human being, a fact that he immediately tried to push out of his brain. Dr. J would be displeased. Yet somewhere, extremely well-buried, Heero admitted to himself that he was enjoying the sensation of Duo's body under his hands -- even if it was when the American was fully clothed. He was surprised to discover that he was curious as to what Duo's naked skin would feel like brushing under his fingers. He suddenly noticed that he was still massaging Duo several minutes after Duo had drifted off to sleep. He yanked his hands back as if burned, recognizing how close he'd come to letting his guard down, and resolved to be firmer in the future. He got up off the bed and returned to his laptop, allowing Duo to sleep. Duo had stirred slightly when Heero's weight had disappeared from the bed, but he had snuggled back into the pillow without awakening. As Heero typed his eyes kept straying to the sight of the braided pilot asleep in the bed. Duo's braid was hanging half over his shoulder and Heero was suddenly aware of how still Duo was. It was that moment -- a moment in between seconds when time seems to stall -- that he realized Duo *never* moved or made a single sound in his sleep. Before Heero's training could stop him, he'd gone across the room and his finger had darted out against Duo's cheek, just to see if the pilot would make any noise or roll over. Three things happened simultaneously. First, Duo did not move at all. Then, the softness of that cheek sunk into Heero's calloused finger and he pulled it away -- the exact same moment that Duo awoke. Heero found himself looking down the barrel of a gun, but he did not flinch. Duo recognized his partner and roommate, pushed the gun back under the pillow, rolled over and was instantly asleep again. Heero sighed internally, he wanted to feel that soft face again, but he didn't particularly relish looking straight into Duo's gun again -- or at his knife for that matter. Next time Duo might not fall back to sleep so easily. Heero wandered back over to his side of the room and climbed onto his own bed, drawing his knees up to his chest and staring out the window. He wondered, not for the first time, what his parents might have been doing had they been alive. He was being stupid again, he thought, as he recalled the whimsical action that had prompted such foolishness. Who needed such soft skin, anyway? A good soldier didn't have such an open, heart-shaped face and velvety soft cheeks. He looked down at his hands, rough and blistered, and wondered if his own face was as childlike, as smooth as Duo's had been. He fell asleep before he had the chance to examine his reflection in a mirror.

~end Ch. 1~


	3. Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo has a panic attack and a bad dream (I think!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *italics*

Duo was lying on his stomach, his head resting on one of his hands, his braid tickling his neck. He opened his eyes slowly at first, barely recalling what had happened before he'd fallen asleep. He observed quickly that it had grown late, the moon had dripped spun silver light into the room, most of it pooling over what appeared to be a peacefully sleeping Heero. Duo groaned quietly to himself. If Heero realized that he had fallen asleep while he was supposed to be waiting for a mission -- well, they would be lucky if they still had Gundam pilots before the night had changed into day again. Duo rolled over onto his back, tossing his braid out of the way, and rubbed his eyes. He was hungry, it was late, and he wondered if any of the other pilots were still awake. It was then he remembered what had transpired just *before* his nap, and he winced. Likely Quatre and Trowa were still being consumed with laughter over how dumb he'd acted. Imagine, singing like that, after so many years. With a dull flash it felt like something sharp exploded behind his eyes and they closed rapidly as he fell into the clutches of a distant memory. 

There had been a child, a little girl with butter brown hair and the lightest blue eyes he'd ever seen. They were like drops of water with only a sprinkling of color spreading through them. Her name had been Eraya, and she was only six years old when Duo had found her on the street, curled up, trying to escape the furious blows of a man who professed to be her father. Duo had gone home to his tiny hole in the wall that night with another child and a lot of bruises and welts webbed over his entire body. Solo had given him an inquisitive glance, but he had assisted Duo in bandaging the child and putting her to bed for the night. He wanted to help Duo dress his own wounds, but the small child with long, ratty chestnut hair and unusual eyes had refused. Duo had carefully taken care of his injuries and then he had kept watch over the child that night as she slept. It was deepest in the night when the gang descended silently upon them. They had knocked unconscious the guard and snuck within the walls of the abandoned warehouse where Duo, Solo and the others had been staying. There was a fierce gangfight between them, and many of the children were hurt, and Eraya woke screaming, terrified. Duo was slight, and quick, and he made a mess out of most of his attackers -- not for himself but for the sake of the clear-sky-eyed girl. When the opposing gang had been driven out, Eraya could not sleep, and Duo had found himself singing a lullabye under his breath. It was the only thing that put her back to sleep. For the next few months, every night Duo would sing to her, and she would sigh, close her eyes, and sleep deeply in a way that not one of the other street urchins did. Then came the fateful night that the gang they had beaten so thoroughly decided on revenge. The gang slaughtered most of Solo's gang that night, and Eraya disappeared. Duo had cried for her, believing that she was dead, hopeless that she would ever turn up again. It was that night that he made his vow never to sing again. When he had been taken in by the Maxwell Church, he had pushed that memory into one of the darkened corners of his psyche and refused to remember. As he thrashed about his bed, Duo could hear a distant, cool voice, but he was too entangled in the past to fight his way out of it. Indeed, he had not remembered the child Eraya until just that moment, when faced with the fact that he had, in fact, sung again.

Heero was actually beginning to feel fear. Duo was writhing on his bed, a look of abject pain fused over his features, limbs tossing ceaselessly. The American seemed to have no idea where he was or what was going on, Heero noted, as he watched the other pilot. Heero had been calling his name -- and many others -- for several minutes to no avail. Something was very wrong, he knew, because Duo's fingers were tearing at his hair, loosening it from the plait, inducing knots and tangles and probably ripping a good portion of it out. Duo's hair was his pride and his most prized possession. If he was so locked up in whatever he was experiencing that he did not realize the harm he was inflicting on his braid than he was in major trouble. Just as Heero was turning to the door to rouse the other pilots, there was a cry from outside the door. Trowa threw the door open inwards and something passed like a shadow over his face before he regained his stoic expression. In his arms was a distraught Quatre, barely able to stand up without Trowa's assistance.

"What is it?" Heero inquired, trying to keep the anxiousness out of his voice.

"Pain," Quatre ground out, "and a child. Very small, clear light blue eyes, something's wrong. More pain!" and he dug his hands into Trowa's shirt, trying to shut down the psychic connection that was allowing the pain of another to tear through his body. 

"Someone has to bring Duo out of it," Wufei commented slowly, as he took stock of the situation. Trowa looked up, blowing his bangs out of his dark green eyes.

"I will," the tall pilot volunteered, "I did this once for a child the mercenaries found. Her name was Ais." Trowa let go of Quatre, helping the blond to lean against the wall, and walked over to Duo's bed. The other three pilots exchanged glances as they realized that Trowa had spoken of his past -- albeit not much. He had not told them what had happened to the girl called Ais. Trowa reached out and wrapped his hands around each of Duo's wrists, holding them tightly even as he spoke in a low, soothing voice.

"Duo? I want you to open your eyes. You need to open your eyes and look at me, okay? You need to come back to us now. Whatever it is that you're fighting, it's in the past. You are no longer part of that past." Trowa intoned gently. Duo opened his eyes, wild frightened violet searing against the calm green that met them. He was not aware of Trowa above him, however. His eyes were darkened with panic and Trowa turned to Heero, standing by the lightswitch. Heero was acutely aware of his uselessness in the situation and was cursing himself for it. Surely, if Dr. J had taught him about massages, he could have taught him how to draw someone out of a panic attack! Trowa raised his normally soft, warm baritone and addressed Heero.

"Turn on the light, he will need it," Trowa commanded. Heero nodded -- this made sense, a purpose -- and flicked the switch up. Light flooded the room, wiping out the threads of moonlight that had been sleeping on Heero's bed. Duo's eyes closed, opened, then squinted at the light. Gradually reason began to creep back into them and he ceased struggling. His body fell limp against the bed and Quatre relaxed, sinking to the floor against the wall, the pain receding like the tide of the ocean sliding out farther and farther. Duo's body was dipped in sweat and his eyes were still somewhat wild as he began to breathe more normally and with less hyperventilating. Trowa released his wrists and passed a hand over Duo's forehead, then turned to the others and pronounced that he did not have a fever. Exhaustion claimed Duo then and his eyes closed again, this time in a much more peaceful rest.

\--

Heero was transfixed by his laptop, eyes darting back and forth over the message he'd just received. It had been from Dr. J and it had re-routed several times and encoded. The message was in regards to a new, very important mission. Dr. J informed him that he should bring along Duo on the mission, as well as the other pilots if Heero felt they were necessary to the mission. Dr. J explained that Duo was needed because of his superior hacking skills and his ability at stealth. When it came to sneaking around, no one could compete with Duo. Trowa was excellent at subterfuge and infiltration but Duo could get in almost any base without detection. He was also a crack shot and superb when it came to picking locks. He even kept lock picks hidden in his hair, which explained why he was generally capable of escaping from any captivity situation. He could usually break himself out and then sneak out without anyone being the wiser. He'd done so before. But this time, Heero allowed himself to feel less than his normal confidence. Duo had just had a severe panic attack and Heero was not at all certain he was up to the mission -- but he had his orders and he could not disobey them. For a second he let his blank expression slip. It simply would not do if they failed the mission because the American had such a volatile disposition. Heero quickly closed and erased all traces of the message's existence before typing a reply. He told Dr. J that Duo was currently indisposed and asked the scientist whether the mission could wait any length of time. Then he sat back in the chair and waited. He did not have long to wait before the message light began to blink. He opened the email. It informed him that the mission was of a vital importance and that they needed to be heading out the next morning to fulfill it, no delays allowed or expected. Heero replied mission accepted signed it "green" and clicked send before disconnecting from the internet. Then he shut down his laptop and began to pack up their things, beginning with his own. Duo's belongings were strewn around the room -- as usual -- and he did not relish cleaning up the other pilot's mess /and/ packing for him. Once he had his limited things carefully organized in his duffel he left the room to tell the others about the mission. He closed the light as he left the room but found his eyes were strangely drawn to the slender sleeping figure on the other bed. Duo was slumbering deeply and peacefully and Heero resolved to let him sleep for as long as possible. Perhaps that way Duo would be fit for the mission come morning.

~end Ch. 2~


	4. Break Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't remember anymore ;___;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *italics*

Duo woke up again, this time with a pounding headache. He sat up gingerly and then realized with horror that his braid was a tangled, twisted mess. He glanced over and noticed that Heero was not sleeping in his bed any longer. Actually, the bed was neatly made - with hospital corners for crying out loud - and Heero's limited belongings were nowhere to be seen. Neither, for that matter, were his, he realized in a minor panic. Had they left him behind? Before he had a chance to leap from his bed and go looking for the other pilots Quatre came in the room with a tray.

"You're awake! We have a mission - we have to leave in an hour. I brought you breakfast, and there's time for a shower if it doesn't take you too long to wash your hair," Quatre said cheerfully. Duo eyed the tray warily and it felt like his stomach turned around and punched him in the spine. He decided that meant that he was hungry and gratefully accepted the tray.

"There won't be time for me to wash it, but it needs to be brushed and right now it's so snarled that I don't think I can comb it through myself. Uh, Quat, what happened last night? Did I get drunk or something? Cause my head feels like it's being squeezed together and my hair - as I mentioned - is an awful mess," Duo asked the blond pilot.

"It's hard to explain, but Tro thinks that you may have had a panic attack. You don't remember any of it?" Quatre asked worriedly.

"Shit - no. I don't remember. Damn," Duo swore. He ate the food from the tray as fast as he could, trying to ignore Quatre's worried gaze. Finishing his breakfast, he pushed the tray off his lap and onto the bed and jumped onto the floor.

"I guess I'll go shower now," he told the Arabian as Quatre picked up the tray and took it back to the kitchen. As soon as the blond had left Duo realized that he had forgotten to ask if someone could brush his hair. He managed to get the elastic out but he was fighting furiously with the long, tangled hair when Heero re-entered the room.

The American was elbow-deep in a mass of chestnut hair when Heero came back into the room. He paused, cocked his head, and then finally decided to ask.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to untangle my hair enough so that I can brush it," Duo growled, angry with his recalcitrant hair. Heero assessed the situation and figured that it could take Duo another hour before he managed to tame the wild mass by himself. They needed to leave in less than an hour and Duo was going to need to cleanse himself before they left - he'd been all sweaty the night before, after all.

"Let me do it," Heero ordered, taking the silver-handled brush and shoving Duo into a sitting position on the bed. Duo gave him a "what the hell are *you* smoking?" look but allowed Heero to begin the arduous task of taming his hair. Heero carefully sectioned off a small amount of hair which he ran his fingers through to clear up the worst of the tangles. He studiously tried to ignore how soft it was as it flowed through his fingers. Gently he brought the brush down the the long section of hair, several times until it was smooth. Heero was struck by the realization that the hair was even more beautiful when it was brushed to a shine, the waves rippling through it, giving it the appearance of a chestnut ocean. He repeated the action until Duo's hair was once again tangle-free and hanging down over his back and pooling on the bed. He also ignored the two pilots gawking in the doorway. They would never understand that if he had not combed it the pilot would have struggled with it until they were all late for the commencement of their mission. He also refused to acknowledge the fact that Duo had been practically purring as Heero combed his hair.

Duo sighed happily as Heero's fingers cleaned up the mess his hair had become. Even his headache began to subside. When Heero had finally finished, Duo turned around to look at him. The Japanese pilot was wearing a strange expression on his generally blank face, but when he noticed that Duo had twisted to look at him the mask fell back into place like a porticullis in a castle. 

"Arigatou, Hee-chan, for that. I'll go take a quick shower now - where did you put my shower cap? I don't have time to wash it," he said, forestalling Heero's comment about how long it would take to wash his hair. Heero stood up and went into Duo's bag, removing the showercap and handing it to the American. Duo accepted it graciously and skipped off to the bathroom, leaving Heero behind still quietly fuming over the use of "Hee-chan."

\-- One day later

"All right, kid, you gonna talk or we gonna have to persuade you?" the burly soldier asked Duo, tapping him in the ribs with the toe of his boot.

"If by persuade you mean torture - then, let me put it this way. I'd rather die than tell *you* anything!" Duo snarled, trying to enrage the soldier into a miscalculation. Unfortunately for Duo, it worked - a little too well. The giant of a man bellowed and put some serious force behind his kick, and when that boot connected with Duo's midsection again he heard a sharp crack, and then it felt like his entire chest had exploded with pain. The man sneered at the boy, curled on the prison cell floor. Then Duo raised his eyes to the soldier and the defiance burning in his violet eyes had not diminished one whit. The other soldier in the cell circled the pretty boy on the floor, calculating, and then without warning he drew back his fist and sent it plunging into Duo's heart-shaped face. Duo shook his head, blood swimming in his mouth, and rolled out of the way of the kick aimed at his crotch. The guards were laughing, laying bets on how long the "pretty girl-type-thing" would remain conscious. The pain in his body Duo switched off, refusing to feel it until he had escaped. Duo snorted, flattening himself onto his stomach and then propelling himself onto his feet with speed and grace. He allowed himself only a second to gloat over their shocked expressions before he twisted, threw up his leg and hit the first soldier with a high kick that connected with the man's chin. The soldier bellowed, an angry, pained sound and lunged forward trying to capture the elusive American. The second soldier unholstered his gun and fired, but Duo was too quick for him and he had already spiralled out of the way of the bullet, which caught one of the guards in the forehead. The man dropped, dead, and his partner gaped at the body of his comrade before calling for reinforcements. Duo was fighting on instinct alone by that point, frenzied, frightened and careless. The two soldiers backed him into the corner of the cell and the big one - the one whose jaw he hoped he'd broken - sent his fist flying into Duo's temple. The pilot's eyes rolled back and he went sprawling across the floor, unconscious.

When Duo regained consciousness he was chained to the wall of the cell. His feet had been chained to each other and to the floor, and he was sitting on the cold floor. His lip was swollen and every breath he took sent pain shooting throughout his abused body. He forced himself to remain conscious despite the agony swirling around in his chest. His head was aching from the blows they had rained down upon him, and judging from the swelling in his ankle, they had continued to beat him even after he'd spun under the ocean of consciousness. It appeared that they had sprained his ankle - that, and they were not adept at torture, or they would have saved their brutality until he was awake and could "enjoy" it. Managing to move about one inch to the side he sucked in his breath as a wave of white-hot pain spread across his body and dimmed his vision. Okay, Duo thought, so moving is a bad idea, at least for the moment. He concentrated on taking deep breaths and forcing the pain to recede. He'd had plenty of practice subduing pain, after growing up on the streets - where any sign of pain or weakness was immediately observed and exploited. Just like OZ, Duo thought as he surrendered to sleep, hoping that when he woke the pain would be manageable.

\--

Heero was pissed. He was so angry that he actually put his fist through the safehouse wall before storming out into the hangar. Duo had been captured - out of carelessness or bad luck, Heero did not know - and Dr. J had ordered him to break into the OZ jail and shoot Duo directly between the eyes. Duo, Dr. J had explained, had become a liability and must be eliminated before he could be tortured into giving OZ any information. Heero made his plans to carry out his new mission, all the while asking himself why it was strictly necessary that Duo be killed. After all, he was a Gundam pilot, trained in war, a terrorist, and also very important in the scheme of things. It would take time - perhaps too *much* time - to train someone else to pilot Deathscythe. That and the fact that being trained in terrorism and war, Duo would be capable of surviving most forms of torture without cracking. Heero knew from experience that Duo would let the Ozzies kill him before he divulged anything, but when he had mentioned that fact to Dr. J, the scientist had coldly insisted that Heero stop avoiding his mission and his duty. Heero had bowed his head for the American, who had been a superb pilot and comrade, and then he accepted the mission and began to prepare. As he powered up Wing and began a check on all of its systems, Heero found himself trying to pin down the reason that he was filled with a sense of foreboding. It wasn't as if he was *attached* to the other pilot, anyway. The American was loud, annoying, he talked too much and he had too much damn hair. Too much damn *soft* hair, a thought whispered through Heero's brain. He groaned, glad that no one could hear him or see him, and then whacked himself in the head for allowing such useless thoughts to penetrate his brain when he had a mission to accomplish. It was at that moment that he realized he may as well just walk up to the base in Wing and press the self-destruct button. The whole base would blow and Duo would be blown to pieces along with it - and so would Heero. Mission accomplished. He was going to use that as his plan until he remembered how upset Duo would get every time that he self-destructed - or tried to, anyway. Hell, killing Relena was easier than killing himself, he thought. The feeling of intense giddiness bubbled up inside of him and gave way to maniacal laughter - the sound that frightened even his fellow pilots. Well, all except for Duo. Heero froze, one finger about to punch the button that would get Wing moving. Duo wasn't afraid of his glare, or his laughter. Duo was the only person Heero'd ever met who was not afraid of him. 

"That proves it then, he's an idiot," Heero told himself firmly. But somewhere deep inside he could not help wondering what would happen if he *did* shoot Duo. Would there ever be anyone else dumb enough not to be afraid in the face of danger? Danger in spandex, armed to the teeth, and named Heero Yuy?

\--

In the end it was a moot point. It was the first mission that Heero deliberately failed. When he'd seen Duo, chained to the wall, his ankle three times its normal size, lips split and bloody, and his midsection bloody and swollen, Heero had felt something suspicious uncurl itself in his gut. Duo had not given in, that much was obvious. He'd also been beaten severely - bad enough to sap his consciousness. Duo was exceptionally proud of his high tolerance for pain and his near-superhuman ability to hide almost any physical pain. Whatever they had done to him had caused him to seek unconsciousness and sleep by way of escape, and yet he was still alive, which was how Heero knew they hadn't gotten any information from him. Had they finished pumping Duo for information they would have killed him. As it was Duo did not look well at all. His face was pale and he was breathing shallowly through his mouth. Heero examined the bruised, battered body of his fellow pilot and cursed Dr. J. In the end Heero did not know why he did it. Never before had he failed to complete a mission. In fact, before he'd met the American, he'd never even *considered* disobeying his orders. But after watching Duo sleep on the floor in his own curdling blood, Heero decided that Dr. J could go to hell. Heero snapped the chains with his hands - strengthened by adrenaline - and then slapped him to wake him up. They escaped the OZ prison with Duo leaning heavily on Heero for support. The whole way back to where he'd hidden Wing Heero was acutely aware of how cold Duo's slender body was. He was also hyper-aware of every single breath the Deathscythe pilot took, and every minute whimper of pain that burst past his lips. Duo had lost consciousness again by the time they made it back to the safehouse.

~end Ch. 3~


	5. Mission: Defined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nope, still don't remember...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *italics*

When Heero managed to get them both back to the safehouse the first thing he did was carry Duo up to the room they shared and lay him gently on the bed. Once he had relieved himself of the slender figure, he paused beside the bed, just watching the unconscious pilot for several moments. He had deliberately disobeyed a mission and the only way he could report was to lie and tell Dr. J that Duo had escaped before the mission could be fulfilled. Duo's chest was rising and falling quickly, giving away just how shallow his breathing continued to be. Heero lay his hand on Duo's chest and held it over the swiftly beating heart. His palm grew warm from Duo's overheated body and Heero sighed - it would appear that Duo was feverish. He watched as his hand rose and fell with each breath. He didn't want to move it, it was calming to feel the sturdiness of Duo's body beneath his palm. Sighing - again - he figured he had better call Trowa to come upstairs and check Duo over. His injuries were severe and he had yet to regain consciousness. Heero jerked back his hand as he heard steps on the stairwell. He had just long enough to notice Duo arch upwards - almost as if seeking something recently removed - before the door crashed open and Trowa strode into the room. Heero backed away from the bed, trying to ignore the feelings that were tightening his own chest. He hoped that Duo would recover and that the braided pilot would not suffer any lasting scars from his ordeal. Heero relinquished control of the situation to the green-eyed pilot, stepping even further away from the bed and nearly tripping over the chair stationed in front of his laptop. Taking his seat he began to type up his report to Dr. J, trying to keep his eyes from drifting to the still figure on the bed, currently being examined by Trowa. Trowa's long gentle fingers were probing Duo for any internal injuries, his left hand pressing carefully against Duo's swollen ankle. Heero swore under his breath when he noticed what he'd typed. Damn that American, he was a constant distraction, even when he was unconscious. He shoved a hand through his messy dark hair and forced himself not to think about Trowa's delicate fingers touching Duo's body. Unfortunately the images kept swimming through his brain until finally he pushed back his chair with a scrape and stalked out of the room. Trowa glanced up to see Heero departing stiffly, his back straight and his entire body threaded through with irritation. Trowa shook his head and shrugged. He would never understand the Japanese pilot, who had told him to follow his emotions - but who failed to follow his own advice. Trowa sighed as he finished his examination. Duo had at least two broken ribs and three cracked ribs, his ankle was sprained, and there was a huge bruise forming beneath Duo's right eye. He stood up, arranged Duo underneath the comforter, flicked off the light and left the room. By the time he made it downstairs it was obvious that Heero had disappeared. When questioned, the other pilots denied any knowledge of the Japanese pilot's whereabouts. Trowa blew out a breath that ruffled his bangs and then retreated to his own room, the one that he shared with Quatre. It was clear to him that Heero was being affected by Duo's constant presence, he just could not fathom *how* - as in, whether Heero was falling for the braided American, or if he was getting to the point where he was going to kill him. Trowa fell backwards onto his bed and closed his eyes. Duo was not going to be going on any missions any time soon, not if his current health was any indication.

~*~*~

Heero slammed the door as he re-entered the safehouse. He had taken a walk through the woods and he had concluded that Dr. J was correct in his original assumption. Duo was worse than a simple liability, he was also an infuriating distraction. The braided idiot had gotten himself injured, which rendered him essentially useless, and if that weren't bad enough, he was going to require assistance bathing when he awoke, and knowing the American he wasn't going to close his mouth even if his life depended on it. Heero bit back the snarl that threatened to escape his iron control and made a split-second decision. Reaching around his back he removed his pistol from its customary place at the small of his back and cocked it, removing the safety. If any of the other pilots had a problem with what he was about to do they could take it up with Dr. J. He climbed the stairs silently and stealthily, gun thrust out in front of him. He kicked open the door of the room he shared with Duo - soon to be his alone - and then knocked it closed with his spandex-clad hip. He crossed the room and trained the gun on the middle of Duo's forehead. It was at that moment that he noticed his hands were trembling. He *never* had any issues killing someone, this was war, after all. But now his fingers shook on the trigger. He steeled himself against all possible emotion and pulled the trigger...

\--

Trowa's eyes flew open as he heard the sharp report of a gun reverberating through the safehouse.

\--

Quatre sat straight up in his chair, his book crashing to the floor, as the loud pop of a gun going off filled his ears and his chest filled with a sharp sense of relief and fear.

\--

Wufei looked up from the repairs that he was making on Nataku when he heard the loud explosion of a gun being fired. He stood up and went running towards the back door of the safehouse.

\--

All three of the other pilots made it to the upstairs chamber at approximately the same moment. The sight that greeted them was a lot less terrifying than they'd been expecting. At the last second Heero had jerked his hand upwards, blowing a huge hole in the wall. Duo's eyes were open wide, the violet color infused with fear, his entire body tensed sharply. Heero was still holding the gun, which was burning his fingers, staring down at the frightened boy lying on the bed. His green tank top was dusted with gunpowder and his own blue eyes were dark with some unreadable emotion. Duo sat up and reached forward, carefully removing the gun from Heero's still slightly trembling fingers. He brushed his thumb over the side of Heero's hand, his palm raised up and resting briefly on Heero's left cheekbone. Then he dropped his hands and tossed the gun away from him onto the bed. Turning his head despite the pain that was still crackling in it, he told the others that they could go, everything was all right. As soon as they'd left and the door was closed completely behind them, Duo raised his eyes to Heero's face, which still held the same stricken expression. But only Duo recognized the expression for what it was, the rest of them must have thought he looked as blank as usual. Heero dropped his eyes to his now empty hand, then met Duo's inquisitive gaze. He shook his head, dark hair slapping against the sides of his face, and leaned over Duo to retrieve his gun. Shoving the gun back into its usual position he turned away from Duo so he wouldn't have to see the hurt that was dominating those violet eyes.

"Heero, why?" Duo asked plaintively from behind him, his voice threaded through with pain and fear.

"It was a mission, nothing personal, Duo. But..." he refused to let the damning words pass his lips.

"But?" Duo queried.

"Nothing," Heero replied sternly.

"Oh, so you nearly shoot me - with the intention to kill - and you won't even finish that damn sentence? Fine, be that way, Yuy," he spat, deliberately reverting to the more formal usage of Heero's last name. He had already twisted away from Heero and did not see the other pilot flinch at that harshness of his last name falling from Duo's lips. Heero straightened his shoulders and sat heavily back down in his chair.

"Hn," he grumbled, to disguise any emotion that might try to leak forth, and to discourage any further questioning. But his ears betrayed him by magnifying every rustle of movement that Duo made as he got comfortable on his bed. He tried not to listen to the tiny grunts of pain that Duo made when he accidentally pulled one of his recently cracked and broken ribs. At last Duo was silent, most likely he'd fallen back to sleep, and Heero reached for his gun. He *had* to complete the mission - it was imperative that he do so. It was an order. And yet, he could not. Again he likened it to his attempts to kill Relena - he did not know why he couldn't just pull the trigger and paint the scenery with her brains. He did not know why he could not cover Duo's pillow with the American's blood. He just knew that he couldn't, and that it was probably due to those foolish emotions that he could never seem to bury deep enough. He wondered idly that if he killed Duo if he could bury those emotions with Duo's body, but then he dismissed the idea. His fingers tangled themselves in his hair and he bit his lip in frustration. There did not seem to be any way around it, he was going to have to let Dr. J know that Duo was alive - and that he was going to remain that way. But once he'd powered up his laptop and signed onto the internet he noticed that the new message light was blinking. He double-clicked it and the message filled the screen - orders for a new mission. He began to read intently and therefore did not see the pair of violet eyes that raked over his body with a calculating and practised precision. Then they closed again and the room was smoothed into darkness from the falling twilight.

\-- Several weeks later --

Heero had gone on his mission and had completed it without event. He had returned to the safehouse and life had settled down into a predictable routine for all of them. Wisely, Duo had never questioned Heero again about the night that he'd almost shot him. There had been no new missions or orders in several days and Heero was growing restless. Duo had been on his feet since the week before, his sprained ankle healed and his ribs nearly so. The bruise on his face has faded into the annals of collective memory and he was as cheerful and hyperactive as usual. He had gone through his entire collection of manga and was, at the present moment, prowling the safehouse for something to do or someone to irritate. Heero was stationed in front of his laptop, staring blankly at the screen, which refused to flash any new messages that would get him out of what had quickly become a deadly dull existence. Even Duo had begun to show signs that the inactivity was getting to him. His chatter was less animated and the hundreds of jokes per day he'd used to tell had waned and dribbled down to zero. Quatre had paced a groove in the hallway carpet, Trowa had gone to watch the circus, and even Wufei was muttering about the lack of anything useful to do. Nataku had been repaired, polished, shined, and even waxed before he'd finally admitted to having fallen prey to the boredom that was swallowing the house like a cobra. Duo had sprawled across his bed, eyes closed, arms beneath his head. He was creating pornographic situations in his brain for lack of anything better to do. He did not even have the energy to annoy Heero in his current bored, restless state of mind. Even Heero had gotten up from his usual place at his laptop and was lying stiffly in the middle of his own bed. Luckily for the five of them it was at that moment that the laptop beeped. Heero was off of his bed and reading the message so fast that Duo could've sworn he hadn't even seen him move. After a few tense moments Heero actually allowed a smirk to drift over his lips before calling Duo over to his side.

"New mission," Heero announced.

"What is it?" Duo asked, bouncing from foot to foot. 

"We have to 'seek and destroy the spy trying to steal the blueprints for Tallgeese II.'" Heero read.

"What? That's weird - almost like it comes from Treize - but why would we be assisting Treize?"

"Dr. J says it's because OZ and Romefeller are trying to build mobile suits that can beat the Gundams. In this case it benefits both us *and* Treize to make sure they don't get their hands on those blueprints."

"'Enroll in the nearest school and begin searching. Do background checks on all of those personnel who have the closest contact with Treize. Hack into Romefeller's database if necessary, but do not withdraw from the school until the spy has been discovered and assassinated,'" Duo read, "that's harsh, why do we have to *kill* the spy?"

"Because, otherwise OZ might be able to kidnap whoever it is back to them, and if they've been memorizing the plans, for example, that could be disastrous."

"I get it - I can't wait till I kick the headache for good, then maybe I could've figured that out on my own," Duo said.

"Doubt it," Heero returned. "Get packing, we're enrolling in an new school this afternoon. And tell the others."

~end Ch. 4~


	6. Mission: Commenced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *italics*  
> warning for self-injury!

Duo threw the duffel bag down on the bed and sighed. He *hated* missions that involved being enrolled in school. The beds were always too small, the dorms smelled funny, he had to go to class and of course, he had to deal with Heero as a roommate. Heero was not the most scintillating person to be around even at the best of times. Duo often dreamed about what would happen if Heero actually began to act slightly *normal,* and he usually came to the conclusion that the Four Horsemen would show up. He glared at the bed, which required him to buy extra-long sheets - and for what? - and then flopped down backwards onto it. He was still lying there, his head right beside the duffel, when Heero entered the dorm room he had assigned them (he'd hacked into the school's computers again) and efficiently unpacked his valise. He neatly folded everything and placed a neat row of jeans and tank tops in the drawers, hanging his trench coat in the closet. When he was finished with that, he went over to the desk, removed his laptop from its case and quickly hooked up it to the school's free internet connection, plugging the cord into the wall. Finally, he arranged his toothbrush, toothpaste, and shampoo in a straight line on the bureau. Duo watched him impassively, but could not help thinking that Heero was so neat it was ridiculous. Grinning manically to himself he leapt off the bed, unzipped his duffel, pulled out a wad of wrinkling clothes and dumped them in the bottom of their shared closet. His toothbrush he tossed on the surface if Heero's desk and his shampoo, conditioner, and hair elastics were placed reverently on the bureau - but as crooked as possible. Up close it was even more obvious to Duo that the line of Heero's toiletries were in a near-perfect straight line. Heero ignored him, tapping on his laptop and doing Oz-knew what on it. Duo snorted, attempting yet again to get Heero's attention, but again the Japanese pilot did not even acknowledge his presence. Finally, extremely bored and unable to irritate Heero, he decided to take a nap. He grimaced as he realized he was going to have to go through the process of making those wretched dorm beds again.   
"Hee-chan - you make the beds this time!" Duo whined, sick and tired of being the one forced to make up their beds while Heero typed on his laptop. Heero looked up at him with wide, guileless blue eyes and a completely blank expression. Duo narrowed his eyes and tried to burn a hole in Heero's tanktop with the force of his glare, but naturally, it didn't work. After all, Heero's Deathglare was much stronger than anything Duo could produce. Heero had had years of practice after all.   
"I do not make beds," Heero announced coldly. Duo cocked his head and gave his partner an odd look. Heero was acting very strange. Only a few days before Duo had felt as if he had been making progress with the Japanese pilot, that perhaps he could break through the emotionless façade and become friends with Heero. Now, however, the prussian blue-eyed soldier was - if possible - even more frigid than he'd ever been previously. There was a sudden flash back to the day on the dock when he'd shot him and those blue eyes had nearly pierced his body with their intensity. Duo sighed, playing with the end of his braid and meandered back over to his bed. Collapsing onto it again, he jerked and murmured "ouch!" as he landed directly on the end of his braid, the elastic digging into his back. As he did he had a vague memory of Heero picking him up one night and tugging his braid gently out of the way. Duo's eyes widened and he stared at Heero's back, contemplating. He had a strange feeling of deja vu, as if there had been a time when Heero had carefully unplaited his hair and run his fingers through it. Duo shook his head and dismissed the idea - it could never have happened, just look at him! He rolled onto his side and balanced his cheek on his hand and the odd feeling of deja vu poured over him again. In his mind's eye he saw a flash, the softest touch against the curve of his cheek and then there was a gun - he was pointing a gun at - Heero? Duo shook his head even harder, attempting to clear it of such strange, confusing images. Things that could never have happened. Although he still had a vague twinge of memory twisting in the back of his brain. Trowa, talking slowly and softly to him. In a flash it swept over him again, and he could see Eraya's clear sky-blue eyes again, and she had a pleading look on her face - the look she'd worn when he'd discovered her. The expression that had caused him to jump underneath her father's whip and take the beating long enough for her to run and hide. Duo had shocked himself, he was used to being the one that was hiding, not the one that was actively seeking confrontation or getting involved. Thankfully the vision lasted only a second and he did not slip back into the past as he had apparently done before. Duo opened his eyes, startled by the fact that he had closed them, and glanced over at Heero. What he saw surprised and puzzled him all over again. Heero was not typing, in fact, he seemed to be studying Duo's prone form in the mirror. When Duo opened his eyes and looked up, however, Heero quickly looked down and returned to whatever he was typing. Duo groaned, another opportunity missed.   
"Heero? Why don't you make beds?" Duo inquired. To his further shock - and a bit of amusement - the Japanese pilot blushed just the slightest bit. Most people would probably have missed it, but Duo was not only a Gundam pilot - trained to be observant - but also Heero's partner. He stifled a giggle because he did not want to offend Heero - he valued his health along with the fact that he did not want to alienate the person he was trying to befriend.   
"I was not taught how," Heero admitted stiffly. Duo paused, studying Heero carefully, then got up off his bed and walked across the room. Draping his arms over the Japanese pilot - who immediately stiffened - he whispered into Heero's ear,  
"I will show you how, because I get tired of always being the one to do it." His breath ruffled the tousled hair over Heero's ear and on impulse he blew into it. Heero shivered, one of the first true reactions Duo had ever seen, and as a consolation for that he stood up straight, pretending that he hadn't noticed. He didn't want to scare the pretty pilot.  
"Where did you learn such a mundane task?" Heero queried.  
"At the orphanage where I grew up," Duo replied quickly in a tone that clearly said, "I don't want to talk about that, however." Heero, also a well-trained Gundam pilot, knew when to drop a subject, and he did, almost as if it were a pair of girls' dirty underwear. Heero stood and gestured to Duo.  
"Then please, show me how," he told the braided pilot in a quiet voice. Duo grinned at Heero and took hold of the other pilot's hand and dragged him over to his side of the room, where he proceeded to instruct Heero in the art of bed-making. He struggled comically on purpose, trying to get Heero to laugh, but the Wing pilot's expression never wavered. Finally Duo gave it up and just pulled the sheets against each corner, swearing every time they pulled off. He just *hated* making beds. Heero observed silently, then, after several moments of watching Duo fight with the sheets and the bed he pushed Duo out of the way and efficiently made the bed in a matter of minutes. When he was through the sheets were flat on the bed without a single wrinkle and complete with hospital corners. Duo gave his partner an incredulous look. It figured, Heero doesn't know how to make a bed, but show him how and he'll show you up by doing it the neatest way possible. But despite his somewhat brooding thoughts he gave Heero a sunny smile, wrapped his arms around the other pilot - who remained completely still - and lay his head on Heero's shoulder.  
"Thanks, Hee-chan!" he bubbled, cultivating his annoying, 'I'm a dumb-blonde' act. He knew that's what Heero believed that he was - even if he wasn't blonde - and he did not want to disappoint the Japanese pilot. Heero mechanically removed the glomped Duo from his body, brushed an invisible speck of lint from his spandex shorts and returned to his side of the room, where he made his own bed - and if it was possible, his was even neater than Duo's. Duo sighed again. He thought of something mischevious and he dropped back down onto his bed, wrinkling it as much as he could. Still Heero ignored him. Grumbling, he leaned his head over the side of the bed where his duffel had fallen and riffled through it, looking for his latest as-yet-unread manga. When he found it he leered a little over the top at the oblivious pilot across the room, then spread it out on the floor and began to read it with his head still hanging over the side of the bed.

~*~*~

Heero was having the most difficult time ignoring the braided menace, which was what he had begun calling him in his head. The American pilot was so much more intelligent than he let on, and it irked Heero to no end that Duo acted so foolishly and pretended that he was stupid. Heero knew that wasn't the case, but he had no patience for Duo at the moment. He had to make sure he covered their tracks so that OZ couldn't find them. He just wished, privately, that Duo would make himself useful, or at the very least stop playing the part of the idiot. He kept his cutting comments to himself as Duo dumped his clothes in a pile at the bottom of the closet, ignored the braided pilot when he tossed his toothbrush on the desk with a clatter, and forcibly bit his tongue when he immediately wrinkled the sheets. At the very least, Heero mused, Duo had taught him something new. It was a useful talent, being capable of making beds. He was certain it could come in handy someday when he was alone. He felt the strangest twist in his chest when he thought of being alone - without Duo - but he dismissed it. He did not know what it meant and therefore did not need to know. But covertly his eyes kept straying to the mirror. The final time he snuck a peek in the mirror his blue eyes widened underneath his mop of hair - a sight Duo would have enjoyed had he been paying attention. Duo was reading a manga hanging over his bed. Heero got up - attempting to be sedate and calm - and crossed the room, where he crouched down so that he was eye level with the braided menace.  
"Why are you reading like that? All the blood is rushing to your brain and frankly, your face has gone quite red," Heero informed him mildly. Duo looked up, grinned, and tapped Heero on the shoulder with his incredibly long, incredibly impractical, yet strangely alluring braid.  
"Because it's fun and I've been trying to get your attention all afternoon," Duo supplied cheerfully. Heero groaned, it had all been a ruse and he had fallen for it. Taking Duo's braid out of his hand - he was going to bop the Deathscythe pilot in the head with it - he was pleasantly surprised when Duo was suddenly crouched on the floor, gun held at the ready just inches from Heero's face.  
"Don't touch the braid," he said slowly, in a menacing voice. Heero did not particularly care to be on the receiving end of a gun barrel but it was useful to know that Duo had incredible reflexes. He'd barely seen the braided pilot move, much less draw his gun and train it on his forehead. Duo held the gun aimed at Heero's temple for a second longer, then slipped it into his black clothes.  
"You have to earn the right to touch the braid," he growled, inwardly laughing at the intense expression of concentration coloring Heero's face. Little did Heero know that Duo absolutely loved when Heero held his hair, but he wanted Heero to try harder - or at the very least, to *try.* He only hoped that Heero would not remember how he had been allowed to touch the braid on previous occasions.

Heero allowed himself to be amused behind his mask. Duo was adorable crouched like that, looking fiercely dangerous, unaware that his violet eyes gave away his every thought. Heero knew the exact moment that Duo remembered when Heero had tugged the braid in the past. His lavender eyes were sparkling with pure mischief and Heero found himself fighting the urge to laugh, and urge that had been curiously absent for the majority of his life. They remained that way, staring each other down for a minute longer, then Heero leaned back on his haunches.  
"Make sure you don't pull that gun on any of the students, okay?"  
"Duh," Duo snorted, "I know better than that by now."  
"And no maiming anyone if they *do* touch the braid," Heero advised, "because we don't want to jeopardize the mission by any displays of unnatural strength."  
"Yes, master," Duo replied insolently. Heero groaned, out loud for once, and got to his feet.  
"It's late, we should get to sleep lest we wake up late for classes tomorrow," Heero suggested. Duo grinned his acquiescence and thought privately to himself that this was one of the few instances when Heero actually spoke more than a few monosyllabic words. Duo stripped down to his plaid boxers - he saved the silk ones for warm nights - and climbed back into his bed. Heero flicked the light off and pulled his tanktop over his head then sought out his own bed. Several minutes later, Heero was breathing softly and regularly and Duo snuck out of his bed. The constant trials of war were getting to him and he had finally found a way to cope. Or so it seemed, he thought ruefully. Everytime they went into battle with their Gundams Duo killed more people than he could count or liked to think about. Their most recent battle had occurred only a couple days after their new mission had come in and he had been too busy to pay his respects to those he had murdered so coldly. Duo was well-aware that anyone who knew just *how* he paid his respects would probably be horrified, but he didn't much care. If he was going to have to kill people - and some *were* innocents, in a sense, they believed that what they were fighting for was just - then he was going to make sure he paid personally for each death. Or, at the very least, each life. Rummaging quietly through his duffel he finally found his razor blades and removed them. Crawling over so that he was situated beneath the window, where he could see better as the moonlight washed over him, he lifted his leg. On the inside of his thigh there was a neat row of scars, some so old they were barely visible, some so new that they were practically still bleeding. One cut for each person he killed, five cuts for each battle he fought where he killed an indeterminate number of people. He was perfectly calm, he was not in any sort of emotional duress, he only did it as a compensation for the families that went to sleep each night missing one of their own. Because it had been a battle he prepared himself mentally for the five cuts that he had to make - his punishment, his only way of being able to go to sleep with any sort of clear conscience. Swiping the razor quickly through his flesh once, he drew in a breath at the pain and watched dispassionately as blood welled over the surrounding skin. The razor bit into his flesh furiously again, more blood beaded, and he repeated the action three more times, at last his conscience was appeased and he could rest. The inner thigh bled a lot, one of the reasons he'd chosen that area, the other reason being that it was much more easily hidden. The blood drooled down the incline of his thigh and some of it soaked into his boxers before he could wipe it off with a tissue. Once his distasteful task had been completed, he carefully bandaged the area so it would not seep blood onto his sheets, then he put the razors away, and paused for some reason. His eyes sought out the figure of Heero sleeping peacefully on the other bed. Not for the first time Duo wondered how Heero could sleep so deeply with all those murders on his conscience. Even a soldier as a conscience, Duo thought. He stood up, sucking in his breath as the new cuts pulled and stung, and crossed the room to kneel in front of Heero's still form. Duo knew that if he touched Heero in any way he would find himself looking down the barrel of the gun Heero kept beneath his pillow, and he didn't want Heero to waken. But still Duo watched, taking in the sight of how Heero's full lips were slightly parted and he felt himself harden imperceptibly. Heero's hair was half spread over the pillow and his face was beautifully relaxed in sleep. Duo positively itched with the desire to kiss those full lips, to learn what they tasted like, but he knew better than to try it. Yet some part of him could not resist at least some sort of kiss, and he pressed his own fingers to his mouth, kissing them and then holding his palm flat out. Aiming at Heero's mouth he blew on his fingers, blew the kiss onto those lovely lips, still slightly open. Heero shivered a little, and his tongue darted out over his bottom lip, then retreated. Duo returned to his bed, hard, almost achingly so, and found himself wishing - not for the first time, either - that Heero could be persuaded to act human. Duo smiled as he drifted off to sleep, remembering how Heero had reacted to barest caress on his mouth. It wasn't every day that someone actually felt a blown kiss, Duo mused as his eyes dripped closed.

~*~*~

Across the room, Heero stirred in his bed, recalling the feel of Duo's gentle warm breath and feeling himself harden. He decided groggily that he was *not* going to let on to Duo that he knew something had happened. But - he wondered just what Duo had done. He had no experience with anything of the sort. He had felt Duo's presence by his bed, he was so well-trained, but he was not going to pull his gun unless Duo laid a hand on him in any way. He was so startled by the warm breath that coated his lips that he did not know how to react. By the time he had thought about it, he had licked his lower lip - foolishly trying to taste that breath from seconds before - and Duo had retreated to his own bed. Heero shifted uncomfortably as his dreams became more heated.

~end Ch. 5~


	7. Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relena shows up, I guess?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *italics*  
> Also, I'm not very nice to Relena's character in most of this fic.

Morning dawned sunny and clear, with the natural light covering Duo like a blanket. He scrunched his eyes more tightly closed and burrowed under his pillow. He might have gotten about two more minutes of sleep if his pillow hadn't been cruelly torn out of his fingers. He blinked in the brightness up at a blurry figure above him. Heero was standing there, the pillow held in his hands, a scowl on his face.   
"Get up, we're already running late for classes," Heero ordered coolly.  
"Mmrph," Duo mumbled into the mattress. He dragged himself into a sitting position, giving him a clear view of his mussed braid and bangs in the mirror. Snorting, he knew that he was going to have to take a shower or his hair was going to get greasy and smell. He wrinkled his nose and tried to get out of bed, wincing as the cuts on his thigh made themselves known. He'd almost forgotten. Schooling his features, he hopped onto the cool floor and padded over to the closet. Rummaging through his pile of clothes on the bottom, he found his towel, then straightened up, crossed over to the bureau, and picked up his shampoo and conditioner. He winked and gave a small salute to Heero as he opened the door.  
"I have to shower - don't lock me out," Duo told Heero has he left the room. Heero watched him leave and barely felt his fingers settle on his lips. They were cool in the early morning, but he distinctly remembered a stimulating dream from the previous night. No, not a dream - he prided himself on his observational skills - Duo had blown on Heero's mouth just as Heero was drifting off to sleep. Heero walked over and sat down on the edge of Duo's bed. What was the other pilot up to? Why would he have stayed up so late? Vaguely he recalled sounds of rustling, as though Duo had been searching for something in his duffel. Heero told himself that Duo had remained up to read, but his instincts told him something more serious was going on. He remembered how Duo had winced when getting up just a few minutes earlier and wondered if perhaps Duo had gotten injured in battle. Yes, that was it, Duo must have been mildly injured and was putting salve or ointment on the injury before he went to sleep. Naturally he wouldn't do it in front of Heero - he preferred that Heero not know about any weakness he might have. Heero nodded to himself, satisfied with the conclusion his analytical mind had served him, and settled in to wait for Duo's return from the showers. Once Duo was finished Heero had to squeeze in a quick shower. He knew from experience that it could take Duo a full ten minutes just to wash his endless amount of hair. He was just beginning to relax slightly when there was a soft knock on the door. He sighed, something else he only did when he was alone, and got up to answer the door. Standing in the doorway was a pretty girl, a bit shorter than Heero, with honey brown hair and wide, guileless green eyes. She thrust out her hand. Heero contemplated it for a moment, then accepted it, shaking the girl's hand the way he'd seen Duo do before.  
"Hi, I'm Caroline," she introduced herself cheerfully, "I was wondering who your roommate was? I saw him on the way to the showers."  
"His name is Duo and he has class in fifteen minutes. Come back later," Heero informed her coolly and shut the door. On the other side of the door Caroline was startled and confused. He'd shut the door in her face. Was he not right? Sighing, she turned away, only to stop in her tracks. She was not the only one staring, either. Duo had finished in the shower and was sauntering confidently down the hall. He was wearing naught but a towel slung low on his hips and his long, glorious chestnut hair was damp and loose. He smelled fantastic, like rainwater and vanilla cookies, and he looked even better. His chest was sleekly muscled, slighty scarred but not badly, and there was still water clinging to his long, curled lashes. He was intermittently running a brush through his hair, which was wavy and curling at the ends. Every single person in the hallway had paused to watch his slow, deliberate progress back to his dorm room. Most of the girls' mouths were hanging open, and several of the guys were almost openly drooling. There were quite a few gay boys in the school and it seemed every one of them suddenly had a new vision to fuel their wet dreams and private fantasies. Duo knew perfectly well what he was doing to his current observers and took great pleasure is swinging his hips just enough as he made his way down the hall. Unbeknownst to him, a girl with light brown hair was following his progress with her blue eyes, which narrowed when she realized that Duo was going to be rooming with Heero. Relena snorted and glared at the teenagers in the hallway who were still gaping even after the door closed behind the vision.

Heero had to forcibly remind himself to keep his mouth closed - it was difficult as his jaw was trying to detach and land on the floor - and quickly sat down at his laptop to hide his body's blatant reaction. Duo was more than gorgeous - he was downright delectable. Succulent, even, supplied a tiny voice in Heero's mind. All Heero knew was that he wasn't going to be taking a shower any longer, not even the cold one he evidently needed. Duo meandered around the room, his towel drooping lower and lower, until finally he found what he was looking for - a pair of bright red boxers. He pulled the boxers on underneath the towel and then tossed the towel onto the floor. Drops of water were still trailing down his chest, a couple droplets were spiralling down over his nipples and he was cleaning the water out of his ear with a Q-tip. Heero couldn't even concentrate on his laptop what with Duo parading nearly naked around the room.  
"Duo! Get dressed already, you have class in two minutes," Heero barked.  
"As do you," drawled Duo lazily, "but you're still in yesterday's spandex." He grinned at his partner and then finished dressing. He plaited his damp hair quickly, securing it with a black elastic, and then he did something unusual. He picked up a little tube from the top of his duffel and spread some gloss over his lips. Heero looked so adorably befuddled that Duo couldn't restrain the laugh that bubbled forth.  
"It's gloss to keep my lips soft, otherwise they get chapped. Geez, Hee-chan, don't look at me like that!" Duo stifled his giggles and pulled on his shoes, covertly watching as Heero stood up and efficiently got dressed in a pair of jeans and a navy blue tank top. He noted with some satisfaction that Heero was fighting a hard-on and grinned. Mission accomplished - getting some sort of visible reaction out of the soldier. Once they were both ready Duo slipped his lock picks into his braid and Heero shoved the keys to their room into his pocket and they both burned rubber to get to class. 

They were late but it was excused because it was their first day. Heero wasn't happy about it, but his scowl resembled his usual scowl so closely that Duo didn't really pay any attention to him. As a matter of fact, he zoned until he heard a familiar voice. High-pitched and just a bit squeaky, it could only be the last person Duo ever wanted to see. He sat straight up in his chair and threw Relena a deathglare as she simpered over to them, hanging all over Heero's desk and practically drooling. Duo made motions as though he was tossing her a towel and she sneered at him. Duo sank lower underneath his desk and tried to ignore the Great Pink Irritation, swearing under his breath and glaring at the teacher. Just when he'd thought he might have a chance with Heero, *she* showed up. It was enough to make him grind his teeth into powder. She was so annoying that Duo didn't know how Heero could stand her. Yet Heero looked oddly pleased to have her sitting beside him, which was excessively strange, but Duo knew Heero's expressions fairly well by that point. Duo scribbled circles in his notebook, then began doodling. He was so engrossed in a fair interpretation of the Great Pink Irritation as a bloodthirsty monster that he didn't at first take notice of the note that had appeared on his desk. He noticed it, though, when someone jabbed them with their pencil point. He picked it up and unfolded it stealthily, reading swiftly. It was brief and it said:

~Duo:   
My name is Caroline and I want to get to know you better. Here's my room number: #Y6729. -Caro ~

Duo grinned. The perfect distraction had just come into play. He'd seen Caroline and she was a tasty looking girl with honey brown hair and green eyes that reminded him of a mossy lake in the summer. Well, Quatre's artificially created lake in the artificial summer on L4, he thought with a wry twist of his lips. Heero was still occupied with the Great Pink Irritation, which meant he could flirt nearly openly with the yummy looking girl behind him. He twisted sideways in his seat and gave her his most charming, seductive smile. She almost swooned and inwardly Duo patted himself on the back. He still had it. He tossed her teasing glances throughout the class, which was math, and blatantly ignored the young man that was levelling him with murderous looks. If Duo didn't miss his guess the jock, whose name was Alex, had been trying to get Caroline to go out with him for some time and Duo had just stepped in and she was falling all over him. Duo smirked at the jock, he could take him and then some if necessary, and continued to flirt with Caro. The interminable class finally drew to a close and Duo leaned over to whisper something in her pretty little ears which caused her to blush. The jock got to his feet threateningly but Duo avoided him neatly and was out the door in a matter of seconds. 

Relena followed Heero all the way down the hall to his next class, which, luckily, she did not share with him. He hoped to get a seat next to Duo, but the braided pilot, he noted with dismay, was sitting with two girls on either side of him. Apparently they were all quite taken with Duo's natural beauty. Heero was honest enough with himself to admit that Duo was quite beautiful, handsome could never be used to describe the braided soldier. The rest of the day passed slowly and dully for Heero, who was forced to watch Duo interact flirtatiously with every girl *and* guy that entered his orbit. Heero could not even manage to keep his face blank by the end of the day he was so sick of Duo's playful games. Relena followed him back to his room but he closed the door firmly in her face only to find Duo standing half-nude in the middle of the room, examining his body in the mirror.  
"Hee-chan? D'ya think I'm too fat?" he asked earnestly. Heero scowled again.  
"Baka, if you were any thinner you'd blow away," he responded curtly. Duo gave him a blinding grin.  
"I have a rendezvous! She's wicked cute, did you see her? Green eyes?"  
"Hn. Hai, I saw her. She came asking about you this morning."  
"Wow, neat!" Duo bubbled cheerfully, pulling on a black silk shirt and leather pants. He unplaited his hair and then braided it again more loosely so that tendrils escaped and framed his heart-shaped face. He applied some more gloss, smacked his lips together, and then twirled in front of the mirror.  
"How do I look? Good enough to catch a chick?" Duo asked Heero excitedly.  
"Hn. Hai. Now leave me be, I have homework," Heero said. He closed his eyes, though, and was glad when he heard the door click shut behind the other soldier. Duo was too pretty for his own good and he flaunted it too much and too well. Heero informed himself firmly that he was only concerned because he didn't want Duo endangering the mission.

The alternative - that he might be feeling the pangs of jealousy - was unacceptable.

~*~*~

Around 4 am Duo snuck back into the room with lipstick clinging to his mouth and a hickey hidden underneath his silk shirt. He collapsed onto his bed and dreamed about a green-eyed lass and a blue-eyed soldier - but he couldn't decide which of them he preferred. The gal was warm and enticing, and the soldier was cold - yet the soldier stirred longings in him that he didn't quite understand.

~end ch. 6~


	8. Green Eyed Monsters and The Great Pink Irritation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love notes from Relena, apparently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *italics*  
> ~notes~

Duo gave himself a thumbs up in the mirror as he examined himself critically. He was wearing a pair of dark bluejeans and a red cropped shirt that exposed his navel and a good several inches of tanned skin. He debated once again piercing his belly button, and again discarded the idea - it would be too easy to torture him by ripping it out and he didn't need to give OZ any extra advantages. But maybe when the war was over - if he *survived* the war - then he could. The thought of dying in battle dampened his spirits somewhat. It was deceptively easy to forget that he could die, any day, any moment, when he was surrounded by relatively normal students. He hated pretending to be a normal teenager - he wanted to *be* a normal teenager. He hid a knife in one of his calf-high boots, strapped to his leg, and again surveyed himself in the mirror. Heero was out, dating Relena no doubt, either that or doing reconn for their new mission. He nodded to himself, he looked cute enough to attract all the girls he could handle. He was looking forward to seeing Caro again in class. She was a good kisser, with warm hands and very smooth hair. He loved hair - he had enough of it after all - and hers was a charming color. She had also been intelligent and amusing, even if she wasn't Heero. He would have preferred to be with Heero, even when the Japanese soldier was looking online for missions.

Math class was exceedingly dull yet again and the only things that kept him awake were Caro's whispers in his ear. She was a saucy girl, full of sexy suggestions, and she kept begging him to come back to her that night. Duo was in full agreement that he wanted to go see her again, but he didn't want her to think that he was too eager. After all, he had quite a few admirers since his little stint in the hallway the day before. Heero was glaring straight ahead, doing his best to ignore the braided pilot and his new conquest. Heero was certain that Duo was only interested in the girl because she was an unknown variable, but once she got old Duo would get bored and move on. Relena was sitting on his other side and she kept passing him notes that were intended to be sexy and enticing but failed miserably.

He was trying to ignore her, particularly after her last note. While there was nothing too objectionable in it, he simply had no current interest in her. Unlike Duo, he thought with bitter satisfaction, he could restrain himself from lunging after every piece of ass he saw. Heero had been trained for many things, and he had a stomach of steel when it came to blood, guts, ripped off limbs, etc, but the note from the candy colored girl was more intimidating than most of the things he'd faced. He didn't know how to deter her. He closed his eyes halfway and tried to concentrate on algebra and theorems, but he had learned all of those things when he was being trained and he was quite bored. 

Duo smirked every time the girl passed Heero a note. He had not missed the look of uncertainty in Heero's eyes when she began to scribble on her pink stationary. Unfortunately, things were about to get a lot worse. She tried to slip the note stealthily onto Heero's desk but her foot - clad in a candy pink heel - caught the leg of her desk and the note fluttered conspicuously to the floor. The teacher paused in his deadly dull lecture and focused his attention on Heero from over his bifocals.   
"Mr. Yuy," he said sternly, "let me have the note, please."  
Heero actually blushed on the tips of his ears, a fact that sent Duo into a fit of giggles, but not so much as the note read aloud did:

~Heero - meet me back at my room after 7pm - Relena~

Heero sunk down in his seat, quite the strange occurrence, and Relena blushed bright pink. The teacher turned to Duo next, and sent him to the dean for causing a disturbance. Duo pressed a kiss to Caro's hand before he left, giving her a wink. She nearly drowned in his gorgeous eyes.

~*~*~

Later that night, Heero was still listening disinterestedly to Relena as she babbled on and on about nothing. She had chased him back to his room and refused to leave, inviting herself in. She was not just a nuisance, but also a potential leak when it came to their mission. He had to get rid of her, but he didn't know how and Duo was nowhere to be found. He knew from experience that threatening her only made her even clingier - she was like flypaper, Heero mused to himself. He cracked a bit of a smile when he realized he had made a joke, and Relena immediately thought it was because of her. 

Unfortunately for Heero, so did Duo - when he walked into the room and caught Heero smiling (as much as he ever did) and Relena still talking. Duo absorbed the scene, felt something bitter rise in his throat, and quickly turned on his heel and left the room before Heero had the chance to take notice of him. It was painfully clear that Heero was even more interested in Relena than Duo had originally thought. 

Heero, meanwhile, was silently cursing the girl, wishing with all of his soldierly being that the floor would open up and swallow her -- or him, at least. He tuned into her chatter for a moment, and winced. At least when Duo talked for hours he was relatively intelligent and not completely painful to listen to. The girl's voice was giving him a headache which would not help their mission any. Quatre, Trowa, and Wufei were due to arrive that day and Heero had to meet up with them and give them the briefing. Heero just wished Duo could stop getting himself in trouble for five minutes and that Relena would somehow disappear. Heero also had to hack into the database of the nearby OZ compound and see what data he could collect on the potential spy and leak. Unfortunately he couldn't do that with *her* hanging around and she showed no signs of leaving. If that weren't enough, he had to do some serious reconn that night - he'd tried to the previous night but Relena had stumbled upon him and had trailed him everywhere. He was getting so sick of her he wished that he had pulled the trigger. Yet even Dr. J had informed him that she had to live for peace reasons. Dr. J, who ordered him to kill a Gundam pilot, and a damn good one at that, wanted Relena to live? It made no sense, especially to Heero's excessively logical brain. Dr. J would not be pleased if he just reached under his pillow, like he wanted to do, retrieved his gun, and shot her. That and the fact that cleaning up her body would be messy and could possibly compromise the mission. Heero sighed. He hoped that Duo returned soon. At last she apparently exhausted herself as she tumbled off the side of Duo's bed and began snoring against the tile. Heero allowed a grin to peep out as he examined her sleeping form. Good, he could get rid of her now, and maybe she'd even have bruises that he didn't have to lay claim to. 

Heero realized with a start that he was developing a sense of humor which was probably not a very good idea. He frowned and promised himself that he would better suppress his emotions in the future. He lifted the brown-haired annoyance off the floor and carried her out of the room, down to her single - she was so rich and important she got a single - and deposited her in her bed. He brushed the hair off her forehead and tamped down the thought that she was rather pretty when she was *quiet.* She reminded him of someone who was uniquely special in his heart, but mostly now, when she was asleep. When she was awake the physical resemblence was all that there was.

~*~*~

Duo had been planning to return to his room after his late-night reconn circuit, but then he'd seen Heero carrying the sleeping Relena tenderly down the hallway and his shoulders drooped. Well, if that was the way Heero wanted to play the game, Duo decided, then he could play too - and it was his turn. Doing an about-face and returning back the way he'd come, he headed directly for Caro's room. She would probably be warm, willing, and waiting, and at least she could ease some of Duo's concerns for awhile. He felt a pinprick of his conscience because he was essentially only using her, but he shoved it down. He could fall in love with her, he *could,* and he would, too. He needed to distract himself from the Japanese soldier who shared his room and also his dreams. He conveniently forgot that Quatre, Trowa, and Wufei were enrolling that night and that he was supposed to help Heero with the briefing. All he could think about was the darling green-eyed girl who kissed so well it was like sucking on warm chocolates.

When he entered her room she was perched on her bed wearing only a long t-shirt. Her honey-brown hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and she was eating an orange, reading a novel and periodically pausing to lick the orange juice drips off her lips and her fingers. Duo got hard and knocked softly to announce his presence. She looked good enough to eat and he couldn't wait to taste her mouth. The previous night she had tasted like molasses, tonight she would probably taste a little tart and he was quite thoroughly in the mood for a little sour. She looked up from her book and gave him a smile that was unconsciously seductive, crossing her long bare legs on the bed. As Duo approached the bed he noticed two things: one, that she wasn't wearing anything beneath her tshirt, and two, that she was shaved completely. He got harder. He pushed the book off of her lap and onto the floor, covered her with his body, and claimed her lips in a heated kiss. They grappled together for several moments, rolling around on her bed, until she came up for air, got off the bed, and closed the door - which had been slightly ajar. She tasted of citrus and smelled like spices and Duo wanted more. He refused to acknowledge what he really wanted and he beckoned her back over to the bed. He kissed her some more, running his hands up and down her legs, but then he settled for cuddling her quietly. Even if he was essentially using her, he wasn't going to sleep with her on what was basically their second date.

~*~*~

Unfortunately for both of them, Relena had woken up and on the way to the bathroom she had peered into Caro's room, only to see Duo and Caro locked in a passionate embrace, apparently giving tonsillectomies to each other, they were kissing so deeply. She wrinkled her nose at first, then smiled slowly. Now that Duo was occupied, with a few well-placed comments, Heero would be entirely disillusioned with his crush and he would turn to her, Relena, for comfort. Pretty soon she would have her talons dug so deeply into his life that he wouldn't be able to leave her even if he ever thought that he wanted to. That and the fact that he obviously wanted her, he just didn't know it yet. He'd carried her to bed, hadn't he? Strangely enough, however, Heero didn't even seem to recognize the crush that he had on Duo and vice versa. Oh, well, she thought to herself, shrugging. It would make it that much easier for her to win Heero's affections for her own.

~end ch. 7~


	9. Problems in Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo hurts himself, I guess? And gets caught by Heero?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *italics*  
> warnings for self-injury in this part!

Heero yanked off his jeans, replacing them with his customary spandex, pulled on his green tank top, shoved his gun down his shorts at the small of his back and hid his razor in his yellow shoe. He was nearly ready to meet up with the other pilots in the middle of the quad. Relena picked that moment to knock loudly on the door. Heero rolled his eyes and groaned, wishing that Duo would remember his keys at times like this. But when Heero opened the door, it wasn't Duo standing in the hallway, and she had shoved her way into the room before he could stop her. He was going to have to get rid of her, he and Duo were supposed to be in the quad in less than ten minutes.

Instead, Relena was dancing around the room, chattering again, and Heero was about to tune her out until she said something that caused his blood to run cold.  
"Duo fucked Caro, in full view of anyone who happened to walk by her room. I'm sorry, Heero, but I just thought you should know." she paused for breath and he rushed over to her and grabbed her by the shoulders.  
"What did you say?" he asked her in a low, furious voice. Relena thought he was angry with Duo and openly gloated.  
"Now that Duo is with Caro, you can go out with me! Isn't that fantastic?" she gushed. Heero stared at her for a moment.  
"Peachy," he remarked, then drew back his fist and hit her in the jaw. He felt immensely better afterwards. Unfortunately, she was going to bruise, he knew that, but he needed to get rid of her for the sake of the mission and her gloating had done nothing except give him a reason to do it violently. For the second time that night he found himself carrying her back to her room, a sight which was received with some very amused glances tossed in his direction by those still awake at the late hour. Once he had again disposed of the GPI, he finally felt like he was ready. He returned to his room, locked the door, shoved the keys in his shoe, and was on his way.

~*~*~

Meanwhile, in the quad, Quatre, Trowa, and Wufei were waiting somewhat anxiously for the other pilots to show. They had been forced to remain behind to take proper security measures regarding their last mission. All that was before they could also enroll in the school. Quatre was fidgeting and he looked up at Trowa in the bare moonlight.  
"You don't think Heero snapped and finally killed him, do you? I mean, he almost did that time back at the safehouse..."  
"No, Dr. J had given him the mission then and he had failed it. There must be a good reason that they're late - Heero *is* punctual, but maybe Duo is holding them up or something." Trowa disagreed.  
"It must be Maxwell. He does not comprehend the meaning of time. He is consistently tardy in everything that he does," Wufei commented dryly. Moments after the words had left Wufei's mouth they could see Heero jogging towards them in his usual spandex and green tank. He came to an easy rest a couple feet away from them, then continued walking at a more sedate pace so that he would not appear suspicious. When Quatre had heard where they were going to rendezvous and *when,* more importantly, he had giggled.   
"If we get caught they'll think we're getting high," he'd said in a choked whisper. Apparently that was the idea - Heero hated the idea because it involved them possibly getting into trouble, but it had its merits should anyone be wondering. Quatre had even remarked quietly that Duo - in a normal college setting - probably would have been one of the midnight potheads. Trowa had cracked a tolerant smile and then shushed him when they saw Duo arriving. But that was in the past, and now the four of them were continuing to wait for their missing member.  
"Heero - you did tell him about this, right?"  
"Hai."  
"Then where could he be? We've been waiting for fifteen minutes already." Quatre whispered.  
"The baka likely forgot, he's so immersed in that girl..." Heero muttered darkly. Quatre's jaw dropped, Wufei looked incredulous, and even Trowa's one visible eye widened at this news.   
"Maxwell has gotten involved with an onna?!" Wufei hissed. Heero was clearly distracted, however, as he kept turning and doing a visual scan of the quad every few seconds - assuredly searching for the conspicuously absent pilot.

~*~*~

Duo was sleeping peacfully in Caro's arms and dreaming of an ocean-eyed soldier. Caro stirred, throwing her arm over Duo's side, and he woke up suddenly, realizing with dismay that he was supposed to be meeting with the other pilots.  
"Shit!" he swore under his breath. He was already almost forty-five minutes late.

~*~*~

"K'so," swore Heero, "I think he forgot."  
"Let's get on with it then," Trowa suggested, "we had better finish before we get caught out here. No need drawing any *extra* attention."  
"Precisely," Wufei agreed. Nodding affirmative, Heero began quickly outlining the plan.  
"Okay, tomorrow night the OZ base is going to be fumigated for termites. While that's being done, all the soldiers will have been evacuated. Someone needs to sneak in and hack their computers for a complete list of the soldiers that spend the most time near Treize. Assistants, etc. I think that will have to be Duo - he's the most proficient at stealth and hacking."  
"Hacking too?" Quatre asked, "I didn't know that."  
"It's a hidden skill, he's better at it than Heero is but he doesn't advertise. Duo's not as dumb as he acts." Trowa told the blonde pilot. Heero shot them a glance to be quiet.  
"Wufei, you have to do reconn tonight around the base - take Quatre with you. You can explore and Quatre can take notes on the route Duo will have to take to get into the base undetected. Trowa, you need to infiltrate the ranks of the exterminators so that there is a last minute change of plans. I don't want anyone inhaling the poison. I am responsible for the getaway. I will have a car ready and waiting two blocks away. Duo needs to meet me at the car and we will come back here to discuss the results. Understood?"  
"Yes, sir," all three pilots chorused with a bit of sarcasm. Heero gave them an odd look but then apparently decided it was his imagination. It was that precise moment, once the briefing was over, that Duo chose to show up. He came running up to them smelling of oranges and with a red mark on his neck. He grinned charmingly and grabbed Heero in an enthusiastic hug.  
"Hi, Hee-chan! Sorry I'm late I fell asleep."  
"If you hadn't been fucking instead of fighting the way you were supposed to..." Heero snarled into Duo's ear. Duo paled.   
"I didn't, who told you that?"  
"Lena told me and she saw you. I thought you never lied, God of Death."  
"I don't. Which means you should reconsider your facts," Duo spat, then stomped out of the quad. Quatre watched him go, a hand hovering over his heart. Before he had the chance to speak, however, Heero was gone too. Quatre met Trowa's look and he shrugged.  
"Trouble's brewing - Heero shouldn't have implied that Duo was lying. More than likely it's another one of Relena's schemes to catch Heero in her net."  
"It seems that way," Trowa replied mildly, "Don't go interfering, Kat. Maybe if they fight it out they'll finally admit to their attraction to each other."  
"Not as long as Maxwell remains in the company of that onna. Heero is a soldier, he cannot afford to be jealous. I hope the mission is not going to be sacrificed for this little spat of theirs." Wufei cautioned.  
"We'll make sure it isn't, but first, Wufei, you and I have to do reconn, so I guess that leaves Trowa to fill Duo in on the details."  
"Hai," Trowa said, then took off at a gentle jog towards the direction of the dorms. Wufei sighed and motioned Quatre over.  
"Then let us get this done. Do you have paper and a pencil on your person?"  
"Yes, and you no longer have to be so formal. We're alone."

~*~*~

Duo slammed the door when he got back to the room, carefully rigging it so that the key wouldn't unlock the door. Proper placement of lock picks in a lock jammed them almost as successfully as they opened them. Duo smiled grimly to himself and flopped onto his stomach on the bed. He couldn't believe that Heero had almost openly accused him of lying. Heero knew that Duo didn't lie - not ever. It was a leftover of his past, a product of a childhood of abuse, thievery, and poverty. Duo knew that Heero had his own problems but nonetheless that didn't excuse him from causing Duo pain. With a shock Duo realized that's what had happened. Heero had made him feel small, like a child again, scolded. Pushed away, tossed out with the day's trash - unwanted and useless. Duo reached down into his duffel and grabbed the razors, not caring when one of them bit into his hand. It was his penance. He had been late to the mission, he'd been worthless to everyone then and now he was no different. He had put several neat slices in his thigh, watching the blood crystallize on his skin, when someone knocked on the door. Duo ignored them.  
"Duo? It's Tro. Are you all right?"   
"Yeah," Duo replied, shoving his pant leg down and tossing the razor under the bed. He got up carefully and opened the door. Trowa was looking a tad concerned, but he brightened visibly when Duo smiled.  
"Hey, I was drafted into filling you in on the briefing."  
"Come in, have a seat, I just have to brush my hair while you talk, okay?"  
"Sure," Trowa said. Then he looked more closely at Duo. "Why is your hand bleeding?"  
"I cut it," Duo replied shortly, "but it's okay, really. Tell me what happened?"  
"Sure," Trowa responded dubiously, but he began giving Duo the rundown on the mission. Halfway through Duo got his comb caught in a tangle and snorted. He fought with it for several moments, then turned to Trowa.  
"Could you help me get this out?" he asked.  
"Hai," the green-eyed pilot agreed. They settled into a companiable silence, Trowa diffused the knot and then for some unexplainable reason continued brushing Duo's long hair. Duo sighed with pleasure and leaned backwards against Trowa's strong body. The green-eyed pilot completed the brushing and then lay the comb on the bed. Duo had his eyes closed in bliss, his lips half open, and he was relaxed and beautiful. Before Trowa knew what he was planning on doing he had captured Duo's lips and they were kissing fervently. Trowa tugged Duo's jeans down to just over his hips, so that his boxers were visible, while continuing to make love to his mouth. He laid Duo out on the bed, pausing in the kisses just to stare at him. Duo was achingly exquisite, with his hair lushly spread around his body, his eyes half-open, the lavender color dusky with passion. He looked like a sacrificial offering and Trowa felt suddenly guilty. He knew that Duo was in lust with Heero, and that they had feelings developing slowly between them. He knew he shouldn't be interfering, Hell, he'd told Quatre not to after all. With a heavy sigh he lifted Duo into his arms, leaning so close their lips were nearly touching.  
"Duo - this isn't right. I know you have feelings for Heero, and I shouldn't be getting involved, muddying up the waters just because you're angry with him. He shouldn't have said what he did, but he doesn't have hardly any experience with people and doesn't know how to react. He lashed out because Relena's been driving him crazy." Trowa paused for breath. Duo opened his violet eyes and gazed deeply into Trowa's green ones. Then he pulled Trowa down for a final kiss, locking their tongues together sensuously.

Heero opened the door and visibly recoiled. Duo was kissing Trowa, in *their* room, on *his* bed, for that matter, and they both looked too comfortable to be disturbed. Tough, Heero thought blackly, and Trowa suddenly found himself with lead up against the back of his neck. Duo opened his eyes when Trowa stiffened and spied Heero. He sighed, he didn't even have to look to know.  
"Put the gun down, it's nothing to have a coronary over. Trowa and I just decided to remain friends anyway."  
"Hn."  
"Put it down, dammit! We need him as a pilot so you can't kill him anyway, or else you'll sacrifice the mission."  
"K'so!" Heero swore, but the cold metal was removed from the Heavyarms pilot's head. Trowa got quickly to his feet and disappeared through the open door, which Heero slammed behind him.  
"Heero, it was nothing, and you know that. It's not like you can afford to be jealous."  
"I'm not." Heero denied the allegation.  
"Right," Duo returned, but when he got up from Heero's bed, Heero saw the blood coating Duo's boxers.  
"Duo? Did you get injured?" Heero asked, finding himself unnervingly concerned. Duo looked up, eyes wide, and froze.


	10. Peril in Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relena makes another appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *italics*  
> references to self-injury  
> moderate sexual situations

Before he had a chance to say anything, however, there was yet another knock on the door. Heero cursed luridly to himself. He was getting exceedingly tired of the constant barrage of people pounding on the door. His fingers tensed around the gun he still had semi-drawn, until Duo cleared his throat. He looked down at the gun, twirled it expertly and hid it at the small of his back like usual. He almost groaned aloud when he opened the door. Relena was standing there, poised to knock again, a bright smile pasted onto her face and a pound of powder on her chin. He smirked as he realized she was trying to hide the bruise. She began talking, without giving him the chance to tell her to get lost, and before Heero could blink Duo had vanished out the door.  
"K'so!" he cursed, slamming his fist into the wall. Why did that-- that American! -- always leave *him* to deal with her? He was incredibly tempted to land another fist on her jaw but he restrained himself. Maybe he could finally get her to understand that he wasn't interested. But when he opened his mouth to speak, Relena threw herself on him and tried to kiss him. But, seeing as she was inexperienced, her tongue landed on his chin rather than in his mouth. Heero decided that this was just the outside of too much, wrapped an arm around her, causing her to sigh with delight, and then pinched the nerves at the back of her neck. She slumped unconscious within his arms. Gathering her up, he found himself *praying* that this time she would be out for longer than a few minutes but not really counting on it. For the third time that night he carried her back to her room. The snickers had evolved into all out laughter as he dumped her unceremoniously on her bed. Even the kids who did not know him had managed to pick up on the fact that she annoyed him. So why couldn't Duo - intelligent pilot that he was - draw the same conclusions? Heero was about to track Duo to Caro's room, or Trowa's room, or wherever he might have gone when he remembered the comment he had made in the quad. Suddenly feeling as though he would like to punch *himself,* he returned to the room they shared. It was depressingly empty. Why couldn't he have kept his mouth shut like he normally would have? What did Duo *do* to him that he found himself acting like a blathering idiot around him? He squared his shoulders, resolving to be stronger and not to speak to Duo at all unless it was necessary. Then he dropped his gun on the floor with a clatter. He stared down at it. K'so! He was beginning to get clumsy because of that braided menace! When he bent over to pick up the .22, he saw something under the bed that left him feeling cold all over. He reached beneath Duo's bed and retrieved a razor, still sticky with rapidly drying blood.

~*~*~

Quatre and Wufei were creeping quietly through the foliage, Quatre holding the pen and Wu had the paper - for some reason - and they had almost made it to the base when they heard an unearthly screaming. They looked at each other with wide eyes. Had they been discovered? This question was answered when a young girl, entirely naked, went running past them. They both darted to the side, but turned their heads over their shoulders to catch sight of an equally naked man chasing her. She had looked to be about thirteen, much too young to be anyone's mistress, and yet she had obviously been involved with the man following her. Upon closer inspection Quatre managed to identify the man as Lt. Walker, one of Treize's closest confidantes. He shrugged and turned to Wufei.  
"She must be older than she looks. That's Lt. Walker and he is a pretty good guy from what Treize has told us about him, although the facts remain to be confirmed. That will happen tomorrow night when Duo copies the records onto the disc."  
"It is an injustice to be seen without one's clothing," Wufei remarked doubtfully. Quatre snickered a little behind one pale hand.  
"Wu-darling, it's only me, you don't have to be so concerned," then he leaned over and pressed a soft kiss on Wufei's mouth. The Chinese pilot sighed and allowed his mouth to open. Quatre's tongue gently explored the damp wet region until Wufei pulled away, gasping for breath.  
"It will be difficult to complete our reconn if you continue those particular extracurricular activities." Wufei managed to say. Quatre giggled mutedly and then took Wufei's hand again. The delicate Asian pilot followed Quatre at a sedate pace, the paper somewhat crushed against his chest after the kiss. Quatre looked behind him and his lips curved gently. The pilot he was leading looked far younger and more innocent than a fifteen year old soldier. Wisps of hair had come loose from the harsh ponytail and framed his face, his onyx eyes were hard to see in the darkness, but the moonlight illuminated his skin, making it nearly translucent. Quatre paused again, thoroughly distracted, and captured those creamy lips again. Wufei did not fight him, even though they both knew that they had a job to do. It was a turn-on to be making out this close to where they could be caught. When Quatre released the Chinese pilot, his eyes remained closed and he licked his lip slowly, seductively, and then waited. The next kiss wasn't long in coming and Quatre's pale blonde hair gleamed, mixing with the strands of Wufei's dark locks. He ended the kiss, opened wild sea-aqua eyes and whispered,  
"Let's get this done so I can take you home and get you out of those clothes," he sniffed comically and gestured to Wufei's traditional garb. 'Fei bit back the smile that was trying to surface and nodded, once. They had reconn to do, after all.

~*~*~

Duo sniffled, he'd gotten some dust in his eye and it had teared up so much that his nose was rebelling. He growled furiously. Shinigami did *not* sniffle! It was un-Death-like! He was about to whack his nose in frustration when Caro came up behind him and wrapped her warm brown arms around his waist. She began licking down his neck, littering it with little heated kisses, her soft honey hair covering his bare shoulder. He allowed his head to collapse against her solid form, reveling in the feel of her hot tongue as it played over his bicep. While she kissed him she undid the tie and his long hair began to unravel, falling loose behind him and surrounding them with the scent of fresh rain. She inhaled appreciatively.  
"Duo - you taste and smell delicious. The girls were right about that - I am lucky."  
"What?" he asked her, pulling away suddenly. Her body was completely bare, a honey color only slightly darker than her hair. Her nipples were dusky and she was exquisitely beautiful. And yet...

And yet...

He was not moved. He felt only the barest stirrings in his groin. Perhaps it was the damning words she'd spoken - that he had been discussed and she was the one privileged enough to fuck him. He wondered cynically if there had been bets placed on who fucked him when and how long it took for him to put out. He shook his head, securing his hair in a hasty ponytail, and quickly tossed his shirt over his head. She watched him and yet she didn't say a word. Apparently she knew how bad her words had sounded. Her green eyes were wide and guileless, her hair shifted and flowed down over one breast. He thought again how pretty she was, how she was tasty enough to eat, and found himself frowning. Heero had called him a liar. He was royally pissed off with the glacier-eyed soldier and still he felt himself harden with only a thought of Heero standing before him similarly ungarbed. He kissed her chastely on the lips, turned on his heel and stalked out. Several minutes later he was walking down the bike trail around the school. He couldn't believe himself. He'd never had any trouble before. Girls and guys fell at his feet, swooning and waiting for him to kiss them and pleasure them. It had been that way since L2 when he was just a tyke of eleven. Even back then he'd been well-tutored in the art of sex and he knew exactly how to manipulate those foolish enough to chase after him. He'd fucked as many girls as guys and he knew how each sex felt in his arms after hours of sexplay. Now he found himself bewildered. Since he'd begun noticing Heero he hadn't been able to muster his usual enthusiasm for the girls that eyed him lustily. He yanked a hand through the rapidly tangling mass of hair and then recognized his surroundings. He was only a few feet from the OZ base and two of his comrades were liplocked excruciatingly beautifully just a few feet away. Quatre's blonde hair swept up against Wufei's dusky skin and their lips were busy. He felt a tear prickle against his eyelid and furiously willed it away. Shinigami didn' cry. They made an enchanting couple, tasting each other's mouths under the moonlight, arms wrapped around each other. He could tell from watching that more than lust was motivating the two and he sighed. He had never known *anyone* sexually that he had also loved. Watching them a second longer he began to feel like a voyeur, a sensation that was going to be repeated when moments later he almost stumbled onto another couple fucking in the damp grass. The mad looked suspiciously like Lt. Walker and the girl was fighting him. He had gagged her with his underwear, though, and she couldn't scream or cry out. Duo wanted to help, but he knew that if he instigated a fight he might blow their cover. He sent a prayer up to heaven that the man wouldn't kill the girl as disappeared into the shadows. Had the man looked up he would have seen a frightening shadow holding a sharp knife poised to pierce the back of his neck. But he was too engrossed in the naked struggling girl and the shadow melted away in moments anyway. 

Duo managed to get back to his room undetected - not surprising, because he wasn't the God of Death for nothing - picked the lock and opened the door. And found himself flat against the wall with Heero's hand clutching the fabric at his neck.  
"What were you doing with this?" Heero hissed, brandishing the shiny clean razor. He had washed it thoroughly and wanted Duo to know that he had done so. Duo's long hair straggled against the wall, rife with leaves and brush, and his eyes were wild on Heero's face. Before Heero had time to inhale again he discovered the sharp knife held taut against his jugular. Duo's breath was hot against his face as he snarled,  
"Don't ever threaten me again. I'm getting damn tired of it. You think that if you pull your gun people will just fall all over themselves, but I'm not like that. As for this - " he plucked the razor from Heero's fingers, "it's mine, which means you had no right to touch it. If you want to be friends you better figure out a better way to do it. Your people skills suck ass, Yuy." he dropped the knife, slit the fabric beneath Heero's grip, and slid down the wall. He was across the room, knife outstretched, almost before Heero could blink. Heero was again reminded that Duo was a lot faster and more ruthless than he looked. He pulled his gun and trained it on the center of Duo's forehead, but the American simply laughed, a terrifying, rusty sound.  
"I could land this knife in your throat before you could fire. Catherine is not the only one who can throw knives, you know." Duo lowered the knife, though, and slumped tiredly against the wall. Heero holstered his gun in his spandex and crossed the room. Before he registered what he was doing his finger had grazed the side of Duo's cheek. The skin there was softer than he had even remembered. The hardness of his life, their life, began to weigh on him and he crouched in front of Duo, who was looking defeated.  
"What happened?" he asked in a voice several octaves lower than normal.  
"I found my way to the base, or nearly. Some man was raping a girl in the woods. I could have saved her, but I didn't, and all for your precious mission!" Duo bit out angrily. Again, before Heero could moderate his speech, he found himself saying,  
"Some things are even more precious..."  
"Wha?" Duo inquired, intelligently, shocked by Heero's confession of sorts. But the blue-eyed soldier just shook his head and stood up.  
"What else?" he said lazily.  
"You! Don't ever, *ever* accuse me of lying again. If you'll believe that bitch Relena over your own partner you have more problems than I thought. Go on, go to her, fuck her and make her deliriously happy. You know that you want to!" Duo shouted. As if summoned, the door creaked inward and a brown-haired head poked in.  
"Heero!" Relena chirped happily.

~end ch. 9~


	11. Reconn at Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *italics*  
> ~dream sequence~  
> bad uses of Japanese

Duo's head shot up and he gave her a withering glance. Heero sighed, resigned to the fact that now Duo was going to run, hide, and leave *him* to deal with the Great Pink Irritation. He asked himself for the thousandth time *why* she couldn't just *remain* unconscious. As predicted, Duo trotted out the now open door, shoving past Relena. She gave him an equally evil look and flounced into the room. Heero resisted the urge to put his head in his hands and cower. Dr. J had not trained him to cower! Although, Dr. J had also not prepared him for *anyone* the likes of Relena. She had some serious problems. Heero wondered if he should suggest a good counselor. Dr. J had given him a list of those after he had met Duo. She plopped down on his bed, grabbed his pillow and hugged it to herself and began talking. Again. Heero gave it up. He didn't have a prayer - she was more persistent than an OZ soldier. Maybe with Duo's assistance he could have figured out a way to get rid of her, but Duo was still angry. Very angry. He sighed. She chattered. He closed his eyes and visualized how the next night's mission would go. She chattered some more. He fell asleep on Duo's bed, and his dreams were filled with a gigantic pink bouncing ball that droned on...and on...and on... She never noticed.

~*~*~

"Ready?" whispered Quatre, "I've got the pen and paper, do you have the cam and mic hooked up?"  
"Roger that," Wufei replied, holding up the tiny camera that he could hide in the collar of his shirt - it appeared to be a button. The super-sensitive mic was wired into his ponytail. He barely had to whisper and the microphone would pick up the noise. Quatre adjusted the receivers for both and began to sketch the outline of the base.  
"Okay, all set. Go on in, and I'll be waiting here when you're through. Take your time but don't go *too* slowly."  
"Roger again," Wufei replied again, and then he began to skulk through the shadows. Quatre sat back on his haunches, pen at the ready, and used the tiny pin flashlight he had attached to his vest so that he could see the paper. As he waited for Wufei's first transmission, he thought about that girl back in the woods. He wondered if she was all right. He sighed, shook his head, and began to concentrate on the task he had in front of him. The camera receiver crackled to life and he glanced at it, marking down the places that 'Fei's hands motioned that he should. The mic picked up every tiny sound in the vicinity and he found himself overhearing a conversation - what could be vital to their investigation.   
"She struggled, Sir."  
"That's not much of an excuse. Get the clean-up teams out there."  
"Yes, Sir -"  
"Sir!" a new voice joined the mix, "she's gone!"  
"K'so," exclaimed the first voice. That was all Quatre heard, though, because Wufei moved into a new location. Quatre recorded the conversation in shorthand into the margin. It may be important later, he justified. Wufei moved all around the base, marking the route Duo would have to utilize to sneak in. Once that was complete he flashed an "all set" sign into the camera and began his return to Quatre. Ten minutes later Wufei had met up with the blonde pilot and they were jogging quietly through the woods, the information they had collected securely hidden on their persons. Quatre looked at Wufei's strong, somewhat arrogant profile and smiled.  
"Reconn at last!" he joked softly, gratified when a small smile crept across Wufei's lips.  
"We had better get this information to Yuy as soon as we get back, he needs to record it into his laptop and encrypt it. Then the physical evidence must be destroyed."  
"Naturally," Quatre agreed, then came to a stop. He reached out a hand and snagged the Asian pilot, pulling him against his warm body, and pressing kisses all over his face.  
"You are so beautiful, and I cannot wait to get my hands all over you later. Let's hurry, all right?" the blonde murmured hotly in his ear. Wufei nodded, words catching in his throat, and by unspoken signal they both sped up.

They reached Heero's dorm room in another several minutes and knocked on the door, the special code knock that was changed everytime they had a new mission. They waited, certain that Heero had to be there waiting for the crucial results of the reconn. After a few tense moments the door *did* open - by Relena. Wufei snorted in disgust and Quatre wrinkled his nose thoughtfully. Then he grinned.  
"Miss Relena," he began cheerfully, "I think you left your door unlocked and I believe that I saw Duo heading in the direction. You know how much he hates pink." She paled and dashed out the door, shoving 'Fei into the jamb in the process. Wufei looked appreciatively at the Sandrock pilot. The blonde shrugged.  
"We had to get rid of her *somehow.* Yuy, wake up, we got a keg!" Quatre hollered. Heero jumped up off of Duo's bed, noticed that the GPI was gone, and then looked at his two comrades. He walked briskly over to them.  
"Gomen nasai, but she is quite dull," Heero explained shortly. Wufei rolled his eyes.  
"Onnas," he commented, then both pilots entered the room and shut the door. More minutes of discussion and Heero was in possession of the reconn results. He put the sheaf of paper down beside his laptop and sat down. Quatre looked at Wufei and then they both hightailed it. They had better things to do now that their reconn mission was complete.

~*~*~

Trowa was wandering the hall, hidden in the shadows, bored out of his mind. He couldn't find Duo to apologize. He'd had a crush on Quatre since they'd met, but then he'd observed the pretty little blonde's scorching looks to Shenlong's pilot. He had resigned himself to remaining single when he caught sight of someone that made his breath catch. She had dusky skin and huge green eyes, hair that hung luxuriously down to the middle of her back, and sleek, long, bare legs. He paused and watched her. She was graceful, like a cat, moving fluidly as though there were no bones underneath her supple skin. She was wearing nothing but a calf-length flannel shirt. Her breasts were high and unrestrained, he could tell from the way they poked impudently upwards. She had a natural beauty that put even Relena's to shame. He stepped out of the shadows and put out his hand. She smiled, an expression that threw light into her luminous eyes and curved her lush lips upwards. She took his hand and pressed it to her mouth, allowing her tongue to tease the top of his hand. He watched her, gazing as deeply as he could into her eyes. A subtle scent of honey wafted off of her skin and when she dropped his hand she finally spoke. Her voice was like liquid lava, hot, smooth, and yet it rippled with emotion.  
"Hello there, I'm Caroline - but you can call me Caro."

~*~*~

Duo was prowling the generally empty hallways. He didn't exactly have anywhere else to go as long as the GPI was contaminating his room. He bit his lip, hard, and tried not to think about what Heero might be doing with her. They were probably declaring their love for each other already. He growled in his throat and pushed the offending images into the back of his mind. He pushed the front door of the dorm open and stepped outside into the cool night air, thoughts of that girl who was being raped burning his eyes. He could see Sister Helen, eyes wide, praying to God even as those bastards ravaged her. Duo clenched his fists. He hadn't fucked Caro, indeed, he had ended up by pushing her away, and now he was alone with just his painful memories for company. He jerked a hand through his hair and realized that it was impossibly snarled and he was going to need to shower with *lots* of detangler before he could even *think* about braiding it again. He snorted - that meant returning to his room. He didn't want to face Heero right then.  
"I don't lie. I'm a coward, but I don't lie!" he hissed into the darkness. And then a hand wrapped around his throat and dragged him down into the grass. He struggled, futilely, realizing that his assailant's grip was too secure for him to muscle out of. So he went completely boneless, slipped his knife from its hiding place, and then thrust upwards. The handle of the knife caught his attacker in the jaw and he grunted in pain, his grasp on Duo loosening. Duo was small, slippery, and swift. He was out of the other guy's arms and in a fighting stance in a matter of seconds. The ensuing fight was completely silent, peppered only with small grunts of pain. Duo knew how to fight dirty, disappear into the shadows, and attack without the slightest noise. In a few more minutes he was breathing hard but he had disabled his attacker. He leaned close and got a good look, then groaned. He had beat the shit out of that jock, Alex. This was *not* going to be good for their cover, and Heero was going to be seriously pissed. He left the unconscious jock in the grass and quietly snuck back into the building. His thigh was aching from the cuts he'd put in it, and now he probably had bruises on his throat from where Alex had attempted to strangle him. He hoped that Heero wouldn't try to keep him from fulfilling the mission he had to go on the following night. They were relying on him, after all. As he crept back to his room, he caught sight of a honey blonde head. He paused and nearly died of shock. Trowa had his hands on each side of her face, and they were kissing thoroughly. Duo smirked a little, though. Caro was definitely a hot chick and at least she wasn't a bad sort. He was happy for Trowa, in a way. After all, his odd feelings had always gravitated towards Heero, not Trowa, anyway. Once he'd reached his dorm room, he picked the lock, and slipped into the semi-dark room. And found himself with a gun digging into the side of his head. He groaned.  
"Heero! Stop pointing a gun at me in my own damn room!" Duo cried out in exasperation. Heero lowered the gun and holstered it.  
"Hn. Thought it was Relena returning."  
"Like you'd ever shoot *her.* You're liable to kill me before you harm a hair on her head." Duo said bitterly. He tossed his knife onto the bed.  
"I punched her." Heero volunteered. Duo ignored him.  
"I'm taking a shower. I'll be back." Duo informed Heero, then stalked out of the room with his shower things. In the shower he managed to get all of the leaves and whatnot out of his hair, and he doused it liberally in detangler. After many more minutes of rinsing it, he turned the shower off, got out, and braided his hair quickly. He used the girls' blowdryer in the coed bathroom to dry his hair just enough, then he threw on his clothes and walked briskly down the hallway. This time, he wasn't trying to put on a show.

When he got back to the room, he hung the damp towel on the doorknob and turned to Heero.  
"I was attacked by some jock out in the quad. I immobilized him and left him there. I know, it will probably compromise the mission, but I couldn't let him kill me, now could I?" Duo asked rhetorically. Heero crossed the room and ran a finger across Duo's neck.  
"You've been bruised."  
"I know, he tried to strangle me. I'm okay," Duo explained defensively.  
"You haven't explained *this* yet, either," Heero said, dropping the razor in front of Duo's upturned nose. "If you don't lie, then prove it and tell me what you were doing with that."  
"I shouldn't have to prove it," Duo muttered sullenly. Heero stared steadily at him, then grabbed Duo's wrists in an iron grip and jerked his pants to the floor. Heero shoved Duo's boxers up and then froze, the sharp, bloody lines clearly visible. He traced one with his finger, ignoring Duo's intake of breath.  
"Why would you do this? Do you want to jeopardize the mission?" Heero growled roughly.  
"Because! I had to do *something* for all those people I kill!" Duo shouted in a hoarse whisper. His throat burned from the earlier attack. He struggled, trying to get free of Heero's hold, but Heero was too strong. The Japanese soldier began to speak, a low monotone.  
"There was a little girl, and her puppy. I killed them in an accident. They were not intended to die, nor were any of the people that were murdered along with her. Every night I sleep I see her face in my dreams and I kill her again. My atonement is fighting this war to its bitter end, when we can forge a peace for all those bruised and broken families. But doing this to yourself will only destroy *you* and undermine your ability to fight. Don't do this ever again." Heero ordered, and strangely Duo found himself nodding. Heero made a certain amount of sense. Heero released him, rummaged around in Duo's duffel until he found the ointment they used on their battle wounds. Gently he smeared it onto Duo's self-inflicted injuries and then bandaged them carefully but tightly. The he went over and climbed into his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. As Duo tried to sleep the words Heero had spoken scrolled through his head again and again. When necessary Heero was full of words, but it occurred so rarely. Duo resolved to get Heero to talk more. Satisfied, he drifted into dreamland.

~a little girl, screaming, and all that remains is her tiny dead puppy and a drying yellow flower. warm hands massage tenderly over injuries someone else has made. screaming fills the air and then dies out again, leaving an eerie silence behind. a knife whistles past his ear and digs furiously into the wall beside his head. arguments and differences are forgotten.~

~*~*~

The next morning Duo awoke with a vicious headache and his throat was dry and abraded from the previous night's attack. He glanced over at Heero, already awake, and tapping at his laptop. Duo pulled out a crossword puzzle and began to fill in some of the answers.  
"Last night Alex disappeared. His body turned up floating in the nearby river. Also, a thirteen year old girl has gone missing. Her name is May and no one has seen her in over a fortnight." Heero reported in a monotone. Duo started, wondering what exactly those facts meant, and if the two events were related.   
"May I use your laptop to check out those stories for similarities while you're in class?" Duo asked. Heero stiffened, then relaxed infinitesimally.  
"Hai. I have class now. I have to encrypt data when I return." Heero replied, then stood up and began to get ready.  
"Can I talk to you later, Hee-chan?" Duo asked, an idea of how to get Heero talking taking root in his brain.  
"Hai, and don't call me 'Hee-chan'." Heero replied in a voice that was soft but threaded with iron. 

~end ch. 10~


	12. In the Drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero and Duo have sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /italics/ (apparently I am not consistent, lol)  
> porn! and mentions of attempted rape

Duo twisted around in the bed, stretching his legs, arching his back, and throwing his hands up high over his head. He was /trying/ to sleep, but he was incredibly restless. Ever since Heero had returned from classes, Duo had been hearing the incessant clacking of the laptop keys, and he was frustrated and annoyed. Before Heero had left he had given Duo an odd, appraising look, as if he was truly interested in what Duo had to say. Heero had just slipped his gun into the waistband of his spandex when Duo had blurted out,  
"Can I talk to you later, Hee-ro?"  
"Yes, and don't call me 'Hee-ro'." Heero had replied in a voice that was soft but threaded with iron. Duo had looked up from his crossword puzzle, surprised that Heero had actually responded. He'd expected the other pilot to ice over as usual and just stomp out of the room. (Although, Duo thought, he stomps better and more effectively in Wing.)  
"I’m sorry, Heero," Duo had said, quietly, surprising even himself. Since when did he actually listen to Heero? 

But now, Heero had come back and he seemed to have forgotten the whole exchange. He was probably examining the files that Duo had stolen, he told himself. Duo snorted, he thought Heero would have at least remembered Duo's sudden out-of-character response. Duo wriggled a little again and his braid snuck back under his back, creating a painful lump.   
"Ow, fuck!" swore Duo, reaching underneath him and trying to get a grip on his braid. Unfortunately his arm was backwards and he couldn't quite reach. Needless to say, he was astounded when Heero stopped typing, crossed the room, and lifted Duo off the bed with only one hand, using the other hand to drag the heavy, thick braid out of the way. Then, he lay Duo back down on the bed with more gentleness than the American thought he was capable of. Duo had a fleeting sensation of deja vu again, but he dismissed it. Once Duo was spread over his bed again, Heero sat down on the edge, his eyes fixed intently on Duo.   
"What did you wish to speak about?" the Japanese pilot asked, a little stiffly. Duo sat straight up and his violet eyes situated themselves on the other pilot.  
"I - you didn't forget."  
"I do not forget things," Heero said.  
"No, I guess the Per- Sorry, Heero, I had promised myself I wouldn't make fun any more. At least not now. What I wanted to talk about was this. You see, every time we go on a mission you try to self-destruct, I swear. And Relena, don't you think you ought to go to her? She likes you and you seem fond of her, you keep carrying..."  
"And I do not care for her, except as a symbol of peace."  
"Oh. Then, I want to ask you something."  
"Ask," Heero stated, laconic as always. It occurred to Duo, listening to Heero, that the other pilot spoke the same way he fought - clear, to the point, and without wasting necessary words. He would not waste ammunition, nor would he waste any opportunties that came his way. Heero did not seem to understand that nothing would blow up if he actually let himself relax a little - maybe even hold an entire conversation that didn't revolve around Duo talking and Heero saying "Hn."  
"What do you know about sex and love?" Duo inquired. Heero cocked his head, unfazed, and began to recite dictionary definitions. Duo smirked to himself - that was pretty much what he had thought. Duo knew more than Heero - but he'd never actually been able to understand how love fit in, or experienced sex that wasn't to gain something - information, money, trust. But, he was fighting a war, and he spent all of his time with a prussian-blue eyed Japanese soldier. Even though he was well-aware of all the responsibilities he had, he was still a fifteen-year-old boy, and his hormones had been raging for almost a full year. He'd taught himself how to release tension - it wasn't difficult to learn to jack off, he'd been in the shower one day, and the shampoo had dripped onto him, and when he'd gone to wipe it off with a finger he discovered that shampoo was good for other things than just washing hair. Now, watching the soldier perched on his bed, he decided to do something impulsive that would probably get him killed - well, he knew he wouldn't get *killed* per se, because he was important - more important than Relena even. But he probably would end up with a death glare and a threat that he would die if he ever touched the other pilot again. Duo shrugged internally, Heero needed to learn how to be something besides just a soldier. If he didn't, then when the war ended he would probably insist on self-destructing inside his gundam. That thought in mind, Duo darted forward - a quick movement from a former street rat - and his lips had brushed over Heero's before the Japanese pilot knew what was going to happen. The kiss abruptly cut short the monologue on sex that Heero was currently involved in. Not only that, but the glare never quite appeared. Heero looked as if he was *going* to glare - and then he turned sideways, leaning into the bed more, and gave Duo a curious look.  
"What was that?" he asked, confusion thinly veiled in his voice and expression.  
"A kiss," Duo mumbled, head lowered, nervously picking at the blanket underneath him.  
"I want to know more about this. Show me," Heero ordered. Duo's head swept up and he just stared dumbfounded at the other pilot for a moment, then nodded.  
"Ninmu ryoukai," Duo replied, laughter dancing through the words. Heero was unaffected by the joke, determined as he was to understand what Duo had just done. Duo shrugged - this time outwardly - and pressed his fingers to the full lips that were parted, waiting for the instruction. Heero probably thought sex was as mechanical as everything else that he did. Duo decided in that instant to show him otherwise - even if he was also learning as he went.  
"I'll try," Duo whispered, then his lips were where his fingers had been seconds before. The second kiss lasted slightly longer, with somewhat firmer pressure, as Duo acclimatized himself to the sensation of being that close to another human being. Duo's eyes drifted closed as he lost himself in the feel of the moment, before he drew away, opening them, and realizing that Heero had not closed his eyes. He smothered a giggle, knowing instinctively that if he giggled, he would offend Heero and the other pilot would never give him a second chance. He was actually pleasantly surprised with himself, kissing Heero was not that difficult.   
"Next time, close your eyes, and um, open your mouth a little," Duo instructed. When his lips met Heero's for the third time, he watched as the other boy obediently closed his eyes, and his mouth opened naturally under Duo's touch. Tentatively, Duo let his tongue slide along Heero's bottom lip before going inside the other boy's mouth, searching and exploring. It was an interesting experience, he could feel all of Heero's teeth, and when Heero's tongue touched his, he nearly jumped in surprise. He kept up his motions, seeking, occasionally meeting Heero's tongue as Heero grew more bold and slipped his own tongue into Duo's mouth. The kiss lengthened and began to get exciting. Duo drew in a deep breath through his nose as he began to feel the sensations that a kiss done well will produce. He felt himself getting hard, and quickly pulled away, uneasy about allowing Heero to feel his erection. Heero felt bereft, and opened his eyes, and stared at Duo for a moment.  
"Why did you stop?" he asked, and his voice had lost some of its sharp soldier edge. Duo screwed up his face, confused, at a loss for words for one time in his life. Finally, he took another deep breath.  
"Because, I was starting to enjoy it too much," he answered, looking oddly vulnerable -- a strange occurrance for a Gundam pilot. Very little frightened or intimidated them. That was the main reason why the pilots were immune to Heero's DeathGlare. Heero collected that information as important data, stored it away in his head, and decided he would have to take the initiative then. He hoped that he would be able to succeed. He leaned forward, and went to kiss Duo, but Duo moved at the last second and Heero's lips hit Duo's chin. A giggle escaped the other pilot, and he turned his head back towards Heero's. This time their noses bumped -- Duo was so nervous about seducing someone as dangerous as Heero that he couldn't keep still -- and finally Heero took hold of the sides of Duo's heart-shaped face, held him still, and kissed him. This kiss was not as gentle or as explorative as the other had been. This kiss was filled with a furious purpose, the same way Heero did everything -- he made it into his mission. Duo could not hold back the noises he was making as Heero turned the tables on him. He found himself flat on his back, the Perfect Soldier covering him with his hard, muscled body, the kiss intensifying with leaps and bounds. After another few moments, Heero lifted his head and began to unbutton Duo's shirt without even asking - not that Duo was particularly surprised that the Japanese soldier had not asked. Duo had given him an unspoken mission with his third kiss, and now Heero was going to fulfill it - or else. But Duo was not going to lie there and simply be the unresisting uke, he thought to himself. Heero had gotten Duo's shirt open and was looking oddly at him. One finger touched a scar on the braided boy's chest, off to the side of his nipple. Another finger explored the outline of another scar - a long jagged mark that cut from beneath his left nipple all the way down his side, near his hipbone. Duo trembled, waiting anxiously for Heero's expression of curiosity to change to one of disgust. He was covered with marks, scars of all sizes and types. He had burn marks on his back from when he'd been running from the law once...they had thrown their torch at him. He had nearly died when it got infected, and if not for Solo he might have. But Heero's eyes continued to hold nothing in them but curiousity and desire. Heero was unsure of how to proceed, but faced with Duo's naked, imperfect chest, he wanted to know what it would feel like to trace those scars with his tongue. So he dipped his head down, tongue darting out of his mouth and coming in swift, uncertain contact with the raised flesh beneath Duo's left nipple. Hesitantly he dragged his tongue along the line of the scar and was rewarded by Duo's hiss of breath. His hands drifted unerringly to Duo's sides, seeking and finding the purchase he needed to continue. Duo did not move, for once in his life, he was actually holding his breath, still waiting in suspense for Heero's rejection. It would be swift and sure, just like everything the other pilot did. Needless to say, he was shocked when Heero met his eyes, and began to speak.  
"You taste like something I cannot catalogue. It is a pleasant taste. And your hair smells like rainwater," Heero told him, his voice low. Duo's eyes filled with confusion, which was quickly replaced by desire as Heero's mouth closed over his nipple. Heero had wanted to know what that tasted like - what it felt like to have someone else's intimate flesh inside of his mouth. The skin around the nipple was deceptively soft. He had not known anything on Earth or the colonies was that soft, and smooth, and when the muscles tightened, he felt something deep inside respond reflexively. Duo ground his teeth and made a strange sound when Heero began to suck on his nipple. He was desperately trying to regain some sort of sense of reality, and trying to puzzle out where Heero had learned to do that. Heero's mouth left his nipple and trailed along down his chest. He paused to suck on the skin here and there, and then he dropped light kisses down his stomach, his tongue circling the American's navel before slipping inside for a moment. Then he stopped, raised his head and looked at Duo.  
"I do not know what to do next," he admitted. Duo, suddenly free of the torture that had had him glued to the bed, tried not to giggle with unresolved tension as he sat up, rolled Heero onto his back, and took over. The green tank top he ripped from neckline to hem and tossed it onto the floor. The spandex was more difficult, but he grabbed his knife from the bedside table and cut the shorts off, watching as Heero tensed and the muscles in his stomach fluttered. He was not afraid of the knife in the least - but he was quite sensitive to Duo's touch. By that point Duo was straddling the Japanese pilot, and could not stop staring. Heero's chest was smooth, a delicate golden color, deceptively fragile-looking. There was a tiny birthmark marring the perfection of his flat stomach, and several scars from the last time he had self-destructed. The reddened marks were wild looking, as if they had been thrown onto the Wing pilot's body like stray sprays of paint. Duo inhaled, astounded by the beauty of his lover, the almost impossible beauty of someone so deadly, so dangerous. Heero was one of the most vicious people he'd ever had the pleasure to know - even more so than some of the gang leaders on the streets - and yet he was petite, his build slender, his body a muted gold color. He could have been a sculpture, Duo decided, as he drank in the appearance of that less-than-perfect expanse of skin. So the Perfect Soldier is not so perfect...Duo mused, then dropped his head down, tongue assaulting the scars that marred the other pilot's body. The taste of Heero filled his mouth, something that he could not place, and the feel of the Wing pilot's flesh under his lips was unsettling in its intensity. He could still feel the back of his mind trying to reconcile the soft beauty of Heero's body with the hard, unyielding strength of his personality. Duo's hands roamed over the Japanese pilot's chest, marveling at the unique feel of hard, developed muscle encased in paper-soft skin. Heero's body felt as though someone had stretched a piece of silk over water. Duo kissed Heero's stomach, enjoying the taste and scent of him - he smelled like damp earth infused with sweat, an intoxicating mixture. Finally Duo decided to jump in feet first, and he dragged his tongue along Heero's hard erection. The Japanese pilot succumbed to the weakness of a moan and his hips jerked upwards without his permission. Fear - an alien emotion - bubbled in his heart before he remembred the mission, and recalled that Duo would not hurt him - Duo was only vicious and violent when it was necessary. Duo's entire demeanor belied what he was - a gundam pilot who could kill someone in a matter of seconds with his bare hands. But those same hands, it appeared, could also bring pleasure, Heero observed, as the long fingers of Deathscythe's pilot made his skin burn and tingle. Duo continued to lavish attention on Heero's arousal until the Japanese pilot dug his hands into Duo's long hair and forced him to pause.  
"I want more," he managed to utter, shocked by how difficult it had become for him to speak. What was Duo doing to him? Duo tilted his head to the side and considered.  
"What do you want?"  
"I want you inside, I want to know what that feels like," Heero responded.   
"Okay," Duo aquiesced, and then slid his body up Heero's, creating and prolonging contact between every inch of their bodies. The sweat that had beaded on both pilots was sticky under their fused flesh, and the heat of the room began to seep into Heero's muscles. Sweat trickled down under his arm and along his side, and he waited for Duo to get "grossed out" as the American would likely put it. But Duo stunned him yet again when his tongue darted out and licked up the droplet that had trailed down Heero's side. Heero felt himself tense, as he wondered what it would be like to have the American deep inside his body. As if in response to Heero's unspoken thought, Duo stroked down Heero's body, smoothing the tension out, before he informed him huskily,  
"I'm going to try and relax you first - I know this requires preparation." Then Duo slithered back down the Japanese pilot's body until he was facing the Wing pilot's hips. Duo dropped his head and rubbed the curve of Heero's hipbone with his tongue, nipping at it. Tenderly he nibbled on the place where Heero's leg joined with his groin and was surprised and gratified when Heero nearly threw himself off the bed. Duo was excited and pleased to find out he had discovered one of Heero's weak spots - an area that would drive him wild despite how much he might try for control. Duo knew from his extremely vast experience that one such place on his own body was the hollow at the base of his throat. One of the OZ soldiers - planning to rape him - had once dipped his tongue into that spot and Duo had gotten hard even though he had hated the feel of the soldier. That soldier had died an excrutiatingly painful death - not only because he'd been planning rape but also because he had made Duo's body respond. After several more moments of torturing Heero by licking and sucking that special spot, Duo flipped Heero over on to his stomach. He swallowed a gasp when he caught sight of Heero's back. It was crisscrossed with scars and welts that had never healed correctly, and the knowledge of who he was about to sleep with slammed into him. Heero may have looked innocent, and delicate, but he was a soldier inside and out and his body still had the marks from his training to prove it. Duo knew for a fact that Heero had undergone whippings and punishments from not only OZ, but Dr. J as well. He put his hand flat against Heero's back, absorbing the feel of the marred flesh into his palm, before he inclined his head down. His tongue caressed the slope of Heero's spine as his fingers stroked over the muscle and bone of the Japanese pilot's shoulder blades. That, apparently, was another one of those areas as Heero moaned and swore into the pillow. Duo felt as though he was slipping down a piece of smooth glass as he drowned himself in the taste, scent, and texture of Heero's body. After what seemed like an eternity he managed to draw himself back into reality and sat up, legs still straddling Heero's back. The Japanese pilot was panting, breath coming in short spurts and heating the pillow he was pressed tightly against. Duo swung his leg over onto the floor, standing up.  
"Be right back," he reassured Heero as he noticed the sudden tension that crept into Heero's shoulders. Leaving the room shirtless but not yet naked, he wandered out into the hallway, thinking. He didn't have any real lube, and he wasn't sure what else he could use. As he stood there pondering, Quatre opened his door and came out into the hallway, and stopped dead.  
"Duo - either you're really overheated or you finally got Heero to relax somewhat. Which is it?" the blonde asked quietly, unable to hide the laughter that colored his tone. Duo looked up, a tad startled, and assimilated the fact that the blonde Sandrock pilot was about a foot away from him, clad only in his boxers, and something clicked.  
"Kat - do you have any lube?"  
"Guess that answered that question," Quatre chuckled to himself as he replied, "Yeah, be right back," and disappeared back into the room he shared with Wufei. Two minutes later he reappeared with a small tube, which he handed to Duo.  
"Be careful - go easy on him, use lots of that, and we've got more so you can keep it if you need to. Oh, yeah, and have fun!" with that the blonde winked and his dorm room swallowed him up again. Duo turned around and re-entered his room, pleased to see that Heero was still sprawled naked on his stomach across the bed. He quickly stripped out of his black pants and then, opening the little tube, slathered the slippery substance all over his erection before climbing back onto the bed. He took a deep breath, mentally prepared himself, and then said,  
"Okay, Hee-chan, get ready - if we ever do this again I'm gonna eat your ass cause it's tempting the hell out of me, but this time I'm just gonna go for it cause you asked and all -"  
"Duo?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Shut up and just do it already. I told you I want you inside."  
"You mean, me as in *me,* or as in you just - "  
"Cáete!" Heero expostulated, resorting to the Spanish he was learning during the present school mission. Duo closed his mouth, inserted a finger on each side to spread his lover open, and then plunged into his body as gently as possible. The lube made the entry much easier and there were only a few tense moments where Heero felt pain. Then he raised himself off the bed, indicating that Duo should move. After a few hesitant thrusts Duo began to find a rhythm and Heero began to rock upwards into Duo's movements. When Duo orgasmed he pulled out, spraying over Heero's back, managing to blur some of the angry lines that spread over the Japanese pilot. Leaning back down he licked his essence of off Heero's spine, then flipped him back over and took him into his mouth. Heero had not cum when Duo had, and Duo was going to see to it that Heero found out exactly how much fun an orgasm could be. The heat and dampness of the American's mouth surrounded Heero's erection until he was writhing under the onslaught. He bucked his hips upwards and Duo tickled his sweet spot, pausing his ministrations as Heero tensed, then speeding them up until his Japanese lover exploded into his mouth. He swallowed what he could and the rest ran down the sides of his mouth. It was at that point that Heero's incredibly strong arms pulled the braided pilot down onto the bed next to him, kissing him and licking the leftover cum from Duo's chin. Duo sighed in pleasure, enjoying the feel of a much more relaxed Heero - even though he was fully aware that it was a side-effect of the orgasm and would not last - and snuggled into the warmth of Heero's chest. Just as Duo was drifting off to sleep, Heero whispered,  
"Arigatou, Duo. I must return to my report now, however, because it was not anywhere near finished."  
"You're welcome, Heero," Duo mumbled into the pillow as the Japanese pilot carefully climbed out of his bed. Strangely enough, the tapping of the keys on the laptop lulled Duo to sleep. Heero finished his report and his blue eyes wandered over to the American, sleeping curled up on his stomach. He shocked himself when he got up, crossed the room, and tugged the elastic from Duo's long, silky hair. Lifting Duo's hairbrush from the bedside table, he unraveled the braid and brushed it through until it was a mass of beautiful chestnut waves. Duo stirred slightly but did not waken, and Heero's finger slipped down the curve of Duo's spine before he kissed the soft, shining mass of hair and then crept back to his bed.  
"I meant it, Duo. Arigatou. I never knew such a thing could exist..." he murmured as sleep claimed his exhausted body.

~end ch. 11~


	13. Death & Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pilots dress up as girls? Huh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *italics* (or maybe /italics/ is it, IDK)  
> future crossdressing! (but not as a sexual kink here, I don't think)  
> mild sexual situations

Duo opened his eyes the next morning and nearly fell out of bed. It came rushing back to him, the entire surreal experience. He had slept with Heero the previous day, despite the fact that they had a mission to complete, in spite of Heero's frozen exterior, and Heero had not rejected him or tried to kill him in his sleep. Duo knew that Heero wouldn't have succeeded had he tried, but he also knew that had never fazed the Jpanaese pilot in the past. He glanced over at his partner and smiled, a soft, real smile that made his heart-shaped face glow. Heero had fallen asleep at his desk, his tousled head resting by the laptop, his skin shadowed and lightened by the sun pouring through the open shade. Duo knew that Heero had gone to his bed after they'd been together, but apparently Heero must have been unable to sleep - or something - and had gone to his laptop to distract himself. Duo felt his body all over for any kind of soreness or injury and could detect nothing new except the dull ache in his throat and the healing cuts on his thigh. He got out of bed, crossed the room, bare feet cooling on the floor, and kissed Heero's forehead just above his left eye. The Japanese pilot woke up and pulled his gun on Duo, as per standard procedure. Duo sighed. It was going to be a long day. He still had no idea how Heero would react now that it was daylight. Their mission had been postponed because of Duo's injuries, and yet Heero hadn't given it a single thought or mention when they were writhing in bed together.  
"Morning, Hee-cha-- I mean, Heero." Duo murmured, quickly correcting himself. Heero looked up and fell screaming, drowning, into a pair of beautiful lavender eyes. They drew him in and held him there and he found himself forgetting to breathe, Duo was that exquisite. The American's long, long hair was still loose and the waves rippled down his body, molding to his curves like a second skin. Heero forced down the lascivious thoughts that were filling his brain and tamped down the arousal he could feel growing against his stomach. Duo had given him something the night before, something that was both a lesson and a gift. He desperately wanted to thank Duo for sharing something so personal, but he couldn't. They were fighting a war, and at any time either of them could be killed. He wasn't going to give Duo anything more than a physical release until he was certain the war was over. He doubted that either of them would survive, and strangely enough he found himself hoping that if Duo and he were killed, that they would die together. Duo could see the thoughts being processed and knew that Heero was going to deny that emotion had had anything to do with the sex. He shoved a fake grin onto his face and wandered over to the mirror, where he began to assess the damage done by the jock.  
"Heero, I ran some background checks on the missing persons and I discovered something quite interesting. May Harper disappeared once previously three months ago. When the police found her, she was Jane Doe and she had absolutely no idea where she'd come from. Her current foster family had asked for her, gave her their name, and took her in. Here's where things get really muddy. Apparently this same foster family was also, at one time, responsible for Alex, the jock. He changed his name from Alex Harper to Alex Hopper when he entered this school. I doubt very highly that this is a coincidence," Duo commented, as he got his brush and began disposing of the tangles in his lovely hair. "Now, I have the oddest feeling that May and Alex are still connected somehow. Also, I did not kill Alex. That means someone else did - it seems to me that he outlived his usefulness. Someone knows we're here, Heero, and they know I'm a Gundam pilot. Alex didn't try to kill me simply because I went after the girl he had an eye on. He was ordered to do it, which means that someone wants to make sure we don't uncover the spy. Someone with very high aspirations. It is my deduction that whoever has been spying has a plan to assassinate Treize as well and then take his place," Duo finished. Heero gave him an incredulous, astounded glance. Duo had just shocked the hell out of him with his deductive reasoning and intellectual processes. He just watched the American as Duo secured his hair in a loose ponytail. Finally Duo turned to Heero, still seated at the desk, and noticed the odd look he was getting.  
"What?" he asked, obliviously. Heero nearly cracked a smile.  
"You forgot to act dumb," Heero replied only. Duo's face fell, but then his eyes lit with laughter.  
"That was too important, Heero. Now, we gotta get outta here. Choosing this school was a grievous error. Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if they had planned last night's 'extermination' as a trap. We should have picked a school close enough to drive to the base and far enough that we would have a better cover. Pack up our things, Heero, and then tell the other pilots we're moving out. I'll hack the database and erase all of us from the files. Also, send word that we have to move the Gundams. Again, it appears that whoever is the spy also has access to Treize's personal files. Anything Treize knows about us and this mission must be falsified. I'll hack his database as well. But - and this is a big one - we still have to make sure we cover our tracks. If Treize was told where the Gundams were then the enemy could already be in possession of that information. I think that Alex, instead of harming me, did me a favor. Had I broken into the base last night I'm willing to bet a lot of money that I would have been captured and killed. They weren't looking for information, they had it. They intended to eliminate me, and possibly the rest of the pilots as well. Okay, get a move on, Heero, we don't have much time." Duo shooed him towards the door, took a seat at Heero's laptop and began clicking on files. By the time an hour was out Duo had removed them from the school's records and had changed all the information that Treize had. In a coded, extremely well-encrypted message that Duo sent to the scientists and Treize, he told them only that plans had changed but no new information would be forthcoming. He knew that Treize would be bright enough to conclude that Duo had changed his records and for a good reason. He logged out of the laptop, packed it up, stripped the beds, and packed their things hurriedly. Heero returned to their room with the other pilots and their things and they climbed out Duo's dorm window. They met up at the car Trowa had stolen, Duo hotwired it, and they were on their way. As Quatre drove - he and Heero were the only ones trained to drive - Duo outlined their new plan, after searching the car for bugs, and then pointed out the new school they had been enrolled in. He snickered a little when he dropped the bombshell.  
"It's a girl's school. I didn't have a choice, I figured they'd never find us there, but at the same time, it should be quite entertaining to go on missions in skirts." To everyone's surprise, Trowa guffawed. He looked at Duo with a new appreciation and continued to giggle.  
"That's great, it's beautiful. Duo, why do you act so damn stupid when you're obviously far from it?"  
"Heero expects me to - plus I get silly when I've had chocolate," laughed Duo, "you should have seen his face when I told him about May and Alex Harper."  
"What about May and Alex Harper?" Quatre asked, looking at Duo in the rearview mirror. Wufei was resting, his head lying on Quatre's shoulder, and Heero had his arms crossed and was glaring at Duo with enough force to burn bushes.  
"They were in the same foster family at one point," Duo said, then went on to explain his conclusions to the others. When he was through, Trowa whistled and continued to give him appreciative glances, most of which ran into the force of Heero's glare and withered. Finally, Heero grabbed Duo's braid and growled,  
"Mine," possessively. Trowa's eye widened, then he turned and winked visibly at Duo. Heero nearly drew his gun again until Duo smiled, shattering the tension in the car. It was a smile full of promise, and Trowa knew that Duo understood why he was being so flirtatious with the American. Trowa had left Caro behind but had promised her he'd find her again one day. He didn't know how but he'd fallen thoroughly in love with her and no longer had any interest in Duo - although Heero didn't know that. They settled into silence, Heero closing his eyes but keeping a hand on his gun, Trowa watching the rain fall softly against the window, and even Duo was quiet. When Trowa looked at Duo he was surprised yet again by the other pilot. He had a calm, thoughtful expression on his face. As if he was currently puzzling everything out and that he would soon have figured out their spy. Trowa observed Duo through his bangs and hid a smile. Duo's display of intelligence had caught Heero's eye and earned him the Japanese pilot's respect. 

~*~*~

When they entered the school parking lot Duo wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something distasteful.  
"Uh, guys, just one thing about this plan - I don't know anything about how girls dress. Well, you know what I mean," he threw at Trowa, "and the only girls I know of who could help are Catherine, Hilde, and Relena. Unfortunately, Hilde and Catherine are unavailable." he shrugged helplessly. If possible Heero cowered and even Quatre grimaced, then brightened.  
"Well, I know plenty about how they dress. Even though I didn't grow up with all 29 sisters I did have several. Let's get to the store and get cracking. Our disguises need to be in place soon."

In the city mall, Quatre bustled around, tossing skirts, dresses, and tiny halter tops at the other pilots. He picked up shoes, heels, and bras. He even chose some girls' panties. Duo provided an admirable distraction for everyone of importance in the store while Heero shot out the security cameras and they stole everything. Quatre didn't want to - he had loads of money - but they couldn't afford to leave any kind of clues behind. Quatre rolled his eyes when Heero pulled his gun and remarked that even *that* was a clue, but the others ignored him and Wufei kissed him to quiet him. Trowa reflected on the fact that Duo was excellent at stealth *and* noisy distractions. He reminded himself yet again that if he never saw Caro again and Heero didn't want him, he'd be more than interested in the braided pilot. Once they had made their getaway they took turns changing in the car. Quatre, Duo, and Trowa changed first - Wufei and Heero were dead-set against it, no matter how vital it was. Finally, Duo had jerked out his knife and pressed it against Heero's belly. He was rewarded with a gun to the head, but he hissed something in Heero's ear and the other pilot withdrew the gun and got in the car to change. When they had all done so, Duo smirked.  
"May I present - Kat Winner, Keiko Yuy, Chang Meiran, Tori Barton, and myself - Dinah Maxwell."

~end ch. 12~


	14. Send an Exploratory Committee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /italics/  
> crossdressing  
> porn  
> rimming

Heero tugged again on the skirt he that he was wearing. For some undefinable reason Duo had given him a gold, leather miniskirt to wear. It was constantly riding up his hips and it was driving him insane. He hated the sudden turn their mission had taken, but then, he knew that Duo's reasoning was sound and that by posing as girls they would be less likely to be uncovered. After some deliberation it was decided that their last names should be changed as well, just to be absolutely secure. Duo had gone out to the car to get the rest of their things and Heero found himself wishing desperately for his spandex. The white lacy top he was wearing itched his collarbone and he wondered yet again why girls would wear such uncomfortable clothing. He had to admit, however, that he looked incredible. The gold tone of the skirt played off the hue of his skin perfectly and the white set his dark hair strikingly visible. He had worn blue and gold heels that brought out the color of his eyes and he knew that Duo had done an admirable job choosing the clothes that each would wear - along with Quatre's help. Heero prowled the room, searching for anything suspicious, not that he expected to find anything. He began pacing as Duo had not yet returned. He found himself worrying about the braided pilot, particularly after the attack in the quad. He shoved down the unfamiliar feelings and ground his teeth together. He was *not* going to get too attached to Duo. He knew as well as anyone that once you got attached, Fate generally stepped in and ripped your heart into shreds. Heero sat down one of the beds and noticed that it was going to need to be made. He smiled a little as he remembered how Duo had taught him to make a bed. He ran a hand through his mussed dark hair and closed his eyes, flopping back against the plastic mattress cover. He remembered the feel of Duo's hands on him, probing, searching, awakening little tingles that trilled along his skin. A sigh whispered through his half-open lips and he recalled how Duo's mouth had been warm and firm against his own. The kisses they had shared had been warm and wet, and filled with exploration. He had never felt as human as he had when Duo was teaching him how to make love. A bit surprised, Heero suddenly recognized what they had done as making love - he had fallen in love with the American. He saw Duo's long hair sliding over the side of the bed as he slept, the drowsy warm violet color of his eyes when Heero was forced to wake him up for something. As Heero ran through the images like a mental slideshow, he found his hand sliding down his bare midriff and then inside of his gold skirt. His fingers found his hardening erection and began stroking, lazily, as he thought of Duo, in the early morning, entering the room after a shower, glowing from the heat of the water. His hair had been damp, loose, and streaming down his back and over his shoulders, covering the scars that Heero now knew were there. Water had been clinging to his nipples, and Duo had been laughing, a true laugh, when the sun had caught his hair and thrown it into a rainbow of hidden colors. It shone brilliantly with auburn, black, even some blonde highlights, and Heero had itched to pull Duo up against his body when they were naked, to feel all that hair rub against his skin, causing pleasurable tickles. Heero's hand, of its own accord, wrapped firmly around his erection and began pumping gently. The feelings that Duo had awakened in him were still simmering under the surface of his skin as he began to speed up, varying the pressure, mouth open, eyes closed, and his head lolling against the plastic. He adjusted his position, pushing the skirt up to his hips, tearing the panties in half and freeing his erection. The cool air caressed it sensuously and a husky cry of passion erupted from his throat. Pre-cum dripped and slid down the sides of his arousal and he caught it in between his fingers, spreading it over himself, his hand gradually gliding faster and faster. His breathing was coming in spurts and gasps and his mouth had gone dry. His hips jerked upwards and he knew that he was close, and then...

Someone pressed his lips to Heero's, tongue dancing along the outlines of Heero's mouth, then darting inside and stoking the fire even further before withdrawing. Heero opened stormy ocean-blue eyes and saw a very nude Duo leaning over him, lips shining wetly from the kiss, lavender eyes filled with sparkles of light and laughter. Duo put a hand over Heero's and paused the movement. He inclined his head even further and whispered in Heero's ear.  
"No, not yet. Let me help you with that," and then his soft breath of laughter warmed the shell of Heero's ear, causing his entire body to tremble involuntarily. Kisses fell along Heero's collarbone, and Duo efficiently removed the perspiration-damp blouse. Heero found his body moving languidly against Duo's light caresses until the violet-eyed pilot said,  
"Look, I'll be right back - I'm just gonna lay a blanket on the other bed, then you can come join me, okay?" he looked expectantly into Heero's passion-vague eyes. Heero nodded slowly and Duo crossed the room. The braided pilot had just thrown the blanket over the plastic mattress cover when he felt Heero's erection pressing up against his back. The heat of his skin was practically scalding Duo as Heero wrapped his arms around the American's waist, neatly fusing their bodies together. Duo tossed his head back onto Heero's shoulder, biting out a moan. Heero snapped Duo's elastic and the long waterfall of hair splashed down over both of their bodies, warm and ticklish. Heero kissed the side of Duo's neck, then bit it gently. He tenderly pushed Duo down onto the blanket on his stomach. Heero licked down the length of Duo's spine, the saliva gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight. The sun had turned Duo's skin golden and even the pale scars were less visible in the natural, much kinder light. His fingers dug firmly but not painfully into the American's sides, his mouth slowly moving down the slope of Duo's shoulder blades. Heero continued to make love to Duo's body with his mouth, his tongue dipping into the cleft of Duo's buttocks and leaving trails of wetness behind. The coolness of the air and the warmth of the sunlight combined to give Duo slight shivers while sweat sparkled on his skin. Duo was moaning in a low voice into the blanket as Heero's fingers slipped beneath him and skittered against the American's stomach. Finally, just when Duo was getting desperate, Heero's hand curved around the American's erection and began to move, a smooth stroking motion. Duo ground his hips into the bed, trying to deepen the pressure of the contact. He was pleasantly startled when Heero's tongue crept inside of him, washing his inner tunnel with damp warmth. Duo cried out, trying to grind against the mattress and buck up against Heero's mouth simultaneously. Suddenly Heero's tongue and hands left him, and Duo was going to protest, until he felt something much thicker and harder press against his entrance. Lube had been hurriedly slicked on Heero's erection and then he plunged forward, making Duo his - forever. The two of them rode the crashing wave of pleasure to completion, Duo finding his peak first, a cry pouring from his throat as Heero managed to caress his g-spot and stimulate his hardened arousal at the same time. Heero continued to thrust for a few minutes longer before exploding deep within Duo's warm, quivering body. The room was filled with the heat of two sated, sweaty boys as Heero pulled out, gathered Duo up against his naked, damp skin, and kissed Duo's forehead. Duo's beautiful eyes were cloudy with his release, his mind sluggish after the pleasure that had ripped through him. They lay close together, sweat drying and sticking them to each other, Duo's incredible hair spread over and around them, until Duo fell asleep. Heero glanced around the room, taking note of the gold skirt, hastily removed, that had fallen against the window sill, Duo's short, flowered dress, lying in a puddle by the door, his gauzy blue panties on the desk chair. Heero tightened his grip slightly and wished that he could tell Duo how he felt. Instead, he bent his head close to Duo's ear, fluttering Duo's eyelashes with his breath when he murmured,  
"Ai shiteru, Duo." The words flowed surprisingly easily from his tongue, at least as long as Duo was slumbering quietly. Duo's profile glittered in the last of the dying sunlight, and Heero knew that Duo wouldn't know what the words meant, anyway. Heero finally closed his eyes and allowed the exhaustion to claim him.

~*~*~

Duo was cheerfully whistling as he carried the blanket down to the laundry. He had several credits in his hand to cover the cost of washing it, and Heero was trailing after him with the detergent. He wore a black crop top with low-slung black jeans, complete with a wonderbra and fake implants. His hair was pulled to each side in two loose pigtails, a more feminine style, Quatre had assured him. Heero, in turn, was wearing his gold leather skirt again, this time though, the outfit was completed with a loose blue shirt that had a vee neckline and a small rosette at the very center of said neckline. They made two very pretty girls, and did not appear the slightest bit suspicious. When they reached the laundry, Duo giggled and gave Heero a suggestive look out of the corner of his eye.  
"Sometime..." he said seductively. Heero gave him an odd, confused look and decided to ignore Duo's flirting. He didn't always know what it meant and at times he wasn't sure that he wanted to. As Duo measured the liquid detergent inside the cap Heero came up behind him and dropped a kiss on the exposed skin of Duo's back. Duo giggled and nearly dropped the cap - it tickled!  
"Lemme guess, you don't know how to do laundry, either, with the possible exception of how to wash spandex?"  
"Hai," Heero replied, a tad sheepishly.   
"I know that because somehow I always ended up washing your clothes, too," Duo offered as explanation. Heero walked over to the window and peered out of it, his blue eyes wistful. He knew that he was somewhat reliant on Duo at times. There were things that he had been taught to do, trained to do, and yet there were so many things that normal people seemed to *know* how to do, and he didn't. Laundry was one of those. Duo was quite capable, it appeared, of doing many of the things that Heero could not. In a sudden, uncharacteristic burst of inspiration, Heero whirled to face the whistling, violet-eyed pilot, who had just dumped the soap on top of the blanket.  
"Duo, after the war, if we live - would you like to be roommates?" he asked, impulsively. It was a dangerous question, he knew, because it implied a future they might never get the chance to enjoy. Duo's eyes filled with something unreadable and his face relaxed slightly, then he shook his head.  
"Nah, Heero, I don't think so. You'll have to make your own life for yourself, provided you survive the war. Besides, I want to go back to L2 and rebuild--" he broke off abruptly and closed the washer with a bang. Heero felt something inside of him crack and begin to bleed. He'd been almost certain that Duo would have jumped at the chance. They would have dealt well together, just as they did currently. Duo could teach Heero the mundane things that Dr. J had overlooked, and Heero could finally tell Duo, in English, that he loved him. It wasn't to be, it seemed. That bleeding part of Heero intensified and he forced it into submission. He had allowed himself to be ruled by his emotions and he had paid the price for it. All's fair in love and war, he thought bitterly, but there is no place in war for love. Especially for a soldier. He caught a glimpse of his beautiful, female appearance in the window and resisted the urge to smash it into sparkling broken pieces, like snow glittering under winter sunlight. Duo had vanished down the dorm hallway and Heero sat down on the ledge under the window and brought his knees to his chest. He felt oddly vulnerable in a way that he had always previously ignored. Twilight was falling drowsily onto the city, and the sun had long burned its way down through the hills.

Duo was furiously beating his fists against the pillow. He had been forced to make the beds again because he couldn't find Heero anywhere, not after the disaster in the laundry room. He'd nearly spilled the truth of his past to the one person who could never understand. Even at his warmest, and most human, Heero was still noticeably colder than most individuals. Duo knew that the motivation behind the Japanese soldier's question had been a combination of two things. One, Heero was afraid. He would not know how to live if he made it through the war intact. And two, he didn't know how to accomplish the stupid, mundane tasks that Duo could. But Duo wasn't about to tell him where he'd learned most of them. He didn't want Heero's pity. He didn't even want Heero's /love/ for Christ's sake. He just wanted Heero to be more friendly, and even though the sex was blistering in its intensity and its completion, that was all it was. Just sex.  
"Just like everyone else I've ever slept with. I wanted it to be different, with you, but you have to be so damn unyielding." Duo dry-sobbed into the pillow. He could not cry, at times like this, and his throat burned with the effort. The crux of it, and also the worst part, was that he wanted, desperately, to accept Heero's offer. But he had things planned for after the war, if he made it through. He was going to rebuild the Maxwell Church and he was going to start and orphanage, especially one that would look out for kids like May Harper, so that they didn't fall through the cracks and wind up raped or worse, murdered, like Alex. Duo knew that at one time Alex had been a small child, and someone had failed him.  
"Just like someone failed /me,/" Duo muttered miserably. His razors he'd given to Heero, accepting calmly the fact that they weren't necessary. He didn't even feel particularly drawn to that solution of sorts, but nonetheless, he remembered how Heero's face had fallen when he had refused, as casually as possible. No, they had no future together. They needed a mutual release and they had found it in each other, but once the war had ground to a halt, they had nothing in common, nothing that could tie them to each other. Duo knew from long experience that sex was a temporary binding. It held firmly, for awhile, but it would fade and decay, just like crushes are wont to do.  
"It's a crush," Duo mumbled into his pillow, "that's all it is, for both of us. Heero is too programmed to know what love is, and the only love I could identify is what Sister Helen and Father Maxwell gave me. I've loved, and I've lost, and I don't think I remember /how/ to love." His eyes, the color of brilliant, newly formed bruises, closed and he fell into a deep slumber. He did not awaken when Heero entered the room.

Heero stood over Duo and remembered the time he had stroked the warm curve of Duo's cheek. It felt like it had happened so long ago. Duo was silent and still, breathing peacefully. Heero leaned down, preparing to kiss that warm cheek, then changed his mind. Duo had rejected him. Duo had scorned him, he could tell that it was important to Heero yet he had dismissed the idea casually, as if it had meant nothing to either of them. He scowled furiously at Duo's slender form. Then he drew back his fist and smashed it as hard as he could into Duo's sleeping face.

~end ch. 13~


	15. Finding Themselves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *italics*  
> crossdressing  
> bloody battles/violence

Duo came awake to blinding pain exploding brilliantly in his cheek. His eyes went nearly black from the pain and he drew his gun, prepared to kill the person who had been responsible for the sharp, excruciating wave of pain that continued to blossom under his left eye. He had very nearly pulled the trigger when strong fingers wrapped over his hand.  
"No," Heero said gruffly, "you'll blow our cover."   
When the pain receded enough that Duo could open his eyes he slipped his knife out as well. He pressed it threateningly against Heero's groin and glared at him. His vision had doubled and he was trying to force the pain into manageability before he killed his former lover.  
"What the FUCK did you do that for?" he snarled, dragging the tip of his knife through Heero's gold skirt, splitting it in two, before drawing exquisite crimson blood just below Heero's navel. Heero allowed the pain to pierce through his gut and then cocked his gun against Duo's head.  
"You denied me! I opened myself up to you - something I don't do - and you rejected me. So you paid for it." Heero fitted his gun with a silencer and for a moment Duo thought that he was a goner. Instead, Heero pulled the trigger, shooting the handle of Duo's knife. The bullet embedded itself, smoking, in the pillow and the knife clattered to the floor. But if Heero thought that would stop Duo he was dead wrong. The American was on his feet and had thrown a high kick almost before Heero could blink. The two pilots went down on the floor, engaged in a vicious, filthy brawl. They might have killed themselves - and each other - had not Quatre chosen that moment to enter the room. He took one look at the dirty streetfight that was taking place in the center of the room and blinked. Then he rubbed his eyes, opened them, and blinked again. His space heart shuddered with pain and he darted forward, a small, swift blonde form suddenly separating them.  
"What are you two doing? I swear, you two will either kill each other or fall in love..." Quatre shouted. The blonde almost got a fist in the gut, except Wufei had followed him into the room. His katana hung by his side.  
"I would not, if I were you," Wufei said coolly. Heero and Duo traded fierce, impending-doom-glares with each other. Quatre crossed the room and kissed Wufei on the lips, a silent thank you for preventing further bloodshed.  
"We're already fighting a war, guys. If you have that mush pent up aggression, save it, because we've been ordered into a mobile suit battle. It will interfere slightly with the current mission but it can't be helped. Now, both of you, get cleaned up and *try* not to look like two boys who have beaten the shit out of each other!" Quatre exclaimed.  
"Did he just say 'shit,'" Duo inquired to the room in general.  
"Yeah, I did, now get a move on. If you were gonna fight, you should have at least pretended it was a catfight. We're girls, now, remember? Wu and I have to go get things in order. Meet us outside in the back in fifteen minutes, and bring a change of clothes, unless you want to fight in a skirt." With that, the blonde turned on his heel, obviously disgusted with their behavior, and left the room. Wufei followed him at a paced walk, completely ignoring the two pilots in the room. Their chests were heaving and Duo's face had gone all sorts of brilliant colors in the intervening time since Heero had thrown his punch. Heero had lost his skirt long ago and was bleeding sluggishly. Duo's hair had been torn from its pigtails and there was blood congealing in it - whether it was Duo's or Heero's neither was quite certain. Duo gave Heero a very dark, furious look and Heero, king of the Glare, looked away. He was ashamed. He had known that he was violent, but still, who had given him the right to so deliberately injure the pilot he had grown to love in such a short time? He turned back to Duo and grumbled out,  
"We had better shower."  
"No time," Duo shot back, retying his pigtails, "I'm going just like this, girl's clothes, breasts, and all." Unfortunately, when Duo adjusted his shirt, he realized something and could not hold back the snicker that bubbled up. In the midst of their furious, silent brawl, one of his implants had gone rolling across the floor. Heero followed Duo's eyes and even he could not restrain the smirk that bloomed on his lips.  
"Well, as soon as I put my breast back *in,* of course," Duo joked, some of the tension in the room dissipating. But once he had done so, his face again settled in a scowl and he avoided Heero as they walked down the hall. Duo had put cakes of powder on the side of his face to cover the bruise that decorated it. Thankfully they had brought makeup as part of their disguise, he thought gloomily. The two sullen pilots met up with the other three in the yard. All the others had changed out of their clothes already except Wufei and Duo. Duo suppressed his laughter because Wufei was wearing a long, flowing skirt and a headband. He looked like one of the hippies that had been pictured in Duo's history books, back when he'd been at the Church. He shoved the thought from his mind and picked some lint off of his black crop top. He managed not to ask why it was Wufei who had not changed as they snuck through the foliage. It was dark, being long after midnight, and yet they apparently were supposed to attack another nearby OZ base - one that had been manufacturing mobile suits suspiciously close in design to Tallgeese II. They had been ordered to take the Gundams and destroy the base. It wouldn't do, after all, for those mobile suits to be put into battle.

~*~*~

Duo clicked one of the controls and Deathscythe spun around, scythe swinging, cutting a clean path through the Tallgeese look-alike. But the other mobile suit barely faltered and a spurt of fear twisted in Duo's intestines. Treize was right, someone had been stealing his blueprints, and now the mobile suits were a lot more difficult to defeat. The battle raged angrily around them and Duo released all of his aggression towards Heero on the mobile suits attacking him. He ripped them to mechanically bloody shreds simply because his anger had taken over, a red haze that had descended over his vision and left him feeling cold and drained. The others were fighting with all they were worth, and then suddenly the world exploded in a flash of blinding light. Pain burst behind Duo's eyes and everything around them went dark.

He opened his eyes, glad that no blood vessels had burst, and glanced around him. The base had been completely decimated. Heero's Gundam was smoking in the middle of it, a mass of twisted metal and burnt wreckage. Pain sheared through Duo's heart and he wondered if that had been the end. Had Heero self-destructed to save them? Had he finally succeeded in snuffing out his young, almost purposeless life? Heero lived for the mission, without it, he had no purpose. Duo knew with sudden, sinking certainty that that was why he had not wanted to be alone after the war. Had he decided to show Duo that he *wasn't* going to survive? Just before Duo could throw open Deathscythe's hatch and go barrelling towards Wing he found it had been pried open. And he was staring directly into a pair of unearthly lit prussian-blue eyes. Heero grabbed Duo and jerked him out of the fallen Deathscythe, the recoil of the movment sending them both sprawling across the grass. Duo ran a gentle finger along Heero's jaw, blackened with smoke and debris.   
"I ejected first," Heero told Duo quietly. He returned the soft gesture, wiping soot from Duo's brow, some of the powder crusting and flaking onto his green tank top. Duo's wild violet eyes could barely focus, the pain in his body was so great. Deathscythe had been thrown violently to the ground when Wing destructed.  
"I did it, for you. I knew you didn't want me to die." Heero informed him. Duo looked at him, general comprehension clearing his pain-filled eyes.  
"Should've warned me, first," Duo joked feebly, grimacing as his leg shot darts of pain up into his chest.  
"We're gonna need quite the clean-up before we can return to the school. No girl would ever get this beat up," Duo murmured. Heero smiled slightly but Duo never had the chance to see it. The pain from the explosion of Wing had combined with the pain from their earlier brawl and he succumbed to blissful unconsciousness. Heero carried Duo across the smoking, flaring wreckage towards where the others had congregated. Heero had warned the others to back off before he self-destructed, and they had done so, and so none of them were seriously injured. Nothing worse than a few scrapes and bruises like they normally incurred in a mobile suit battle. But Duo had been unreachable. Heero had found himself raising his voice, trying to pierce the bubble of unawareness that surrounded the American, but he had been unable to do so. He had backed as far from Deathscythe as he could afford, but he knew that Duo was going to suffer some serious injuries despite his caution. He wanted to tell Duo that he *had* warned him, but he held his tongue. Duo had been battling personal demons again, and Heero had known it almost from the beginning. None of Duo's cheerful battle chatter had filled the comms.

~*~*~

Duo did *not* want to wake up. He knew that his entire body had been through quite the wringer and he wasn't at all certain he could stomach the pain without doing something weak, like vomiting or passing out again. Yet when he opened his eyes only a faint ache greeted him. He sat up in bed, noticing instantly that he was half-naked, wearing only girl's pajama pants, and then he heard the clicking. Heero on his laptop, doing who knows what.  
"Heero - why don't I feel like Death warmed over?"  
"Because you *are* Death warmed over," someone joked. He glanced over and nearly fell out of bed. Trowa was perched on Heero's bed, eye never wavering from Duo's pale, undernourished form.  
"You've been unconscious for a week and a half, Duo. I did everything I could and the worst of your injuries have already mostly healed, but you haven't eaten in so long. Catherine wanted to send soup but I talked her out of it." Trowa's warm baritone was soothing and Duo lay back down against the pillow. Trowa stood up, tossed something at Heero, then left the room. Heero got up and went over to Duo, sitting on the edge of the bed.  
"You destroyed yourself out there. You never heard my warning and you certainly didn't heed it, which was beyond foolish."  
"It was your damn fault, Yuy. You started a fight with me and I got lost in that fury. And no, don't bother asking. I'm not going to be your housemate and all-around whipping boy once the war ends. Don't even think about hitting me again. Hell, we probably won't even live to see the sun rise the day after the war concludes." Duo turned his head to the wall, his long hair lank and braided as usual. It hadn't been more than sponge-washed since the last time Duo had taken a shower of his own volition. Heero gazed down on the too-thin pilot lying beneath the sheets and took note of the blood that had dried and caked on his body. He got up and left the room, returning with a damp washcloth.   
"I'm going to sponge you down, because some of the stitched cuts still bleed when you thrash around. You did that a lot when you were under." Heero informed him calmly. Duo made no response. His body felt insufferably weak and he hated every second of it.  
"The mission, Heero, what about that? I still have to steal those records."  
"In a few days. Everything's been quiet, yet there have been no opportunities anyhow."  
"Heero - why are you doing this? Why are you talking so damn much?"  
"You were right, we don't belong together. As for talking, I doubt it will last. But currently there is no one else around to do it, so I am stuck with the task." The washcloth was warm and it moved smoothly down Duo's body, erasing all traces of the blood. His cheek was still sore and it had turned a sallow yellow. Heero finished sponge-bathing the indisposed pilot and stood up. He tossed the washcloth on top of the laundry piled in the basket and returned to his laptop, his customary silence drowning the atmosphere in the room. Duo stared at Heero's back, feeling his heart swell and pulse gently with the knowledge that he had succeeded somewhat. Heero had come out of his shell a bit, was even conversing more fully. And yet his heart also painfully contracted when he remembered Heero's words about Duo being right in his assessment. Duo buried his head in the sheets and tried to find sleep again.

They had never been a couple. And now, because of Duo's demons, they *couldn't* be. Duo sighed despondently and let the nightmares have him again.

~end ch. 14~


	16. Precious Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh, there's poetry in this one, I guess...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *italics*  
> ~notes & poetry~  
> crossdressing  
> porn  
> rimming

Heero watched Duo sleep, his heart aching painfully. The other pilot had been unconscious for so long he'd almost believed that Duo wouldn't survive, and now, he was thrashing about the bed again. Gripped by the same nightmares that had plagued him constantly since he'd collapsed. Heero knew that there was nothing he could do. He'd tried to wake Duo once and had nearly gotten shot, all to no avail. Duo had opened his eyes, wide and unseeing, gun pointed unerringly at Heero's temple. Heero'd left him alone after that, but the whimpering cries Duo made caused Heero distress of the sort he'd never known before. He wondered why people wanted to fall in love, since all that love seemed to be was a lot of pain. He closed his eyes and lay down on his bed. Hopefully Duo would awaken soon. Yet when Heero looked at that beautiful face, scrunched up in terror, all he wanted to do was ease Duo's pain. He knew that once Duo awoke he would have to return to their old way of coexisting. There would be no more moments of infinite tenderness, no more chances to feel that soft sweep of hair on his bare thighs. For the first time in his short life, Heero began to understand emptiness and loneliness. He'd never had any human companionship before - not of the kind that mattered - and now, faced with his old way of living, Heero wanted to smash the glass case that held him captive. His training was so complete that it had *become* him. He could watch others interact but he could not participate. He had believed that Duo liked him, that Duo wanted to be friends. Heero let out an almost imperceptible sigh and methodically closed himself down. There had been a time, more years ago than he could count, that he had been able to feel things fully and he couldn't just flip the switch to turn them off. Then Dr. J had stepped in and created that wonderful and at times loathsome little switch that threw all of his emotions into a tiny, locked drawer. Heero shoved the love he felt for Duo into that little drawer. Mentally he swallowed the key and vowed that he would never again follow his emotions, as Odin Lowe had taught him. When he had effectively shut down the still human side of him, he fell asleep. He dreamed of darkness, a silence that was overbearing, deep and yet shallow. And then he dreamed of nothing else.

~*~*~

Duo got up for the first time three days later. He felt immensely better, he had recovered some of his strength, and he was satisifed that he no longer had the intense nightmares that preyed on his sleep. It had been a very dull three days, however. Heero hadn't said a word, and Duo hadn't bothered trying to get him to talk. There was no longer any reason for them to communicate. Duo had things he wanted to accomplish, if the war ever ended, and he didn't have room in his life and his plan for an anti-social soldier that didn't know the meaning of the word "love." Duo scowled at himself in the closet mirror. The clothes they'd stolen hung on his thin frame after all the weight he had lost. The capri pants he was wearing kept sliding down over his hips and threatening to fall to the floor in a shower of cloth. The pretty cropped halter he had pulled on didn't look right, either. It was meant to be formfitting, but instead it slid off his left shoulder, exposing bruises and scars and the bones that continued to stick out even when he ate. He hated being so thin. He had never been more than slender to begin with and he hadn't been able to afford losing any weight in the first place. Now, he looked like a scarecrow, and his hair refused to shine because he was so unhealthily skinny. Snorting with disgust at his reflection, Duo turned away from the mirror and stomped over to his bed. Not looking at Heero, he threw some books in his bag.  
"Not that you care, or anything, but I'm going to actually *go* to class now. It's about time, anyway. See you later, and if I don't, oh well." Duo muttered in an angry monotone. He couldn't care less if he never saw the Japanese pilot again. The words that Heero had spoken to him the day of the battle had long been forgotten. At his laptop, Heero was putting the finishing touches on some homework that he had to turn in. He said only,  
"Hn," and continued to read over his work. He never saw the furious look that Duo threw at him as he stormed out of the room. Had Heero been paying attention, he would have asked himself why Duo, usually so cheerful, was so angry. As it was, the door slammed loudly and Heero jumped and pulled his gun. He was getting anxious, which was a bad state of mind for a soldier to be in. He tossed the gun onto the floor and went to stand in the middle of the room. Fuck Duo. It wasn't as if the American did anything useful besides chatter and annoy everyone. Heero curled his lip and began to write a note. It was concise and laconic, just like the soldier who wrote it.

~D: Mission tonight. H.~

He tacked the note to Duo's pillow with one of the other pilot's own knives and then went to class. He had already planned everything out with the other pilots, and the first part of the mission would take place just after midnight. The route Duo had to take had already been mapped out, quite awhile ago, and Trowa was at that moment infiltrating the base. Trowa was pretending to be a visiting general to provide a suitable distraction while Duo snuck in and copied the necessary files to disc. It should only take Duo a matter of minutes, he'd promised them. Then Trowa and Duo would rendezvous with Heero in a getaway car as soon as the files had been duplicated.

~*~*~

Duo returned to his dorm room after class and found the note that Heero had so courteously left him. He slammed his fist into the desk and threw the knife across the room where it plunged violently yet harmlessly into the wall. He was thin to the point of ugly, and now Heero probably didn't want him at all, not for anything. Standing in the midst of his clothes and manga, chest heaving, mouth open with the intensity of his breathing, Duo suddenly smiled. It was a lean, predatory expression, and he turned on his heel and left the room again. It took only a matter of minutes to reach Trowa's room. He knocked on the door and Trowa bade him enter, which he did. His halter slid off his right shoulder as he entered the room and paused. Trowa was changing out of his feminine clothes into a military uniform, undoubtedly as part of their mission. Duo knew that the administration would think Trowa was from the nearby base and that he had been visiting his girl. That strange light burned in his eyes again, and he stepped forward.  
"Tro - they'll think you're visiting your girl."  
"That's the idea, of course, Duo. Did you want something?" Trowa asked quietly, buttoning the uniform. Duo smiled, a wide, slightly off-balanced grin. Trowa almost stepped back when faced with that unearthly light in Duo's eyes but he dismissed it. After all, Heero and Duo were having problems and all the pilots knew it. Duo twirled around, showing off his thin yet femininely-enhanced form. Then, making sure that Trowa was watching, he stripped out of his clothes, letting them fall to the floor with a hiss. He stood there, blissfully nude except for girl's panties, and beckoned Trowa forward.  
"For ten minutes - no more because you'll be late - you may do anything that you wish to me. The only catch is you may not remove your clothes. Again, because of the mission. Accepted?"  
"Accepted, of course," Trowa replied in a soft undertone. Then the taller pilot lifted Duo, as light as a young child, and spread him out on the bed. He untied Duo's hair, gently, and combed through it with his fingers, marveling at the softness and the smell of fresh rain that wafted up from it. He leaned down, taking the panties in his teeth, and drew them down Duo's long, muscled legs. He spat them onto the floor and then sat back and just drank in Duo's appearance for several seconds. Duo's erection was hard and insistent against his tanned, concave stomach. His hair blanketed parts of his body, obscuring some of the scars that decorated him. Trowa blinked, sometimes he forgot how young that they all were. Duo in particular was so jaded by life that his cynicism sometimes colored his cheerful façade. Duo's arms were smooth, almost free from marks, and even his feet were beautiful. Impulsively, Trowa inclined his head and licked up Duo's arch. He was rewarded with a gasp of breath, and Duo's lovely eyes, the color of wild violets, closed, the lashes creating a dark smudge against his cheek. Trowa left Duo's feet and pressed a tender kiss to Duo's bruised cheek, noting that it had faded almost completely at long last. He moved his mouth to Duo's and began kissing him, his tongue slipping inside to make contact with Duo's, the heat of their mouths melting into one another. Trowa's hands, with their long, slender fingers, began to massage Duo's erection, gliding up and down with practiced ease. His mouth drifted down Duo's lean, hard chest, his tongue dancing along the scars it found there. His lips cupped over one of Duo's nipples and Duo screamed, his back lifting off the bed towards Trowa's mouth. Trowa smiled slightly against Duo's sweating, quivering body, and then he moved even lower. His tongue flicked out against the head of Duo's erection and the American moaned, body trembling, eyelids fluttering in pleasure. Trowa's fingers found Duo's entrance and pressed inside, earning him another gasping moan from the writhing pilot. Trowa's tongue moved even lower yet again, this time sliding between Duo's buttocks and caressing his opening. Duo was making continuous noise and Trowa's tongue plunged into his body, his hands stroking Duo's erection until Duo's screamed hoarsely and exploded all over himself and the bed. Trowa smiled, lifted his head and then kissed Duo on the mouth. He wiped some of the sweat from the American's damp eyebrows and then stood up. He checked his watch and grinned, a wild, pleased expression that few ever had the pleasure to see on the green-eyed pilot's face.  
"Ten minutes, exactly." he announced. Duo opened eyes that had gone black from the intense pleasure and continued panting on Trowa's bed.  
"Twas, lovely..." he managed to breathe out between halting exhalations. Trowa leaned down and gave him a kiss just above his right eye, then returned to buttoning his disguise, which luckily had not gotten sprayed. When he was through with that he carefully wiped Duo down with the sheet.   
"I have to go now, I trust that you can dress and see yourself out when you're ready. And don't be late, of course," Trowa told him in a voice that was as lazy as honey. The tall pilot left the room and began whistling to himself. It was obvious that something truly awful had caused a giant rift between Heero and Duo and he could only hope that they mended it. He loved tasting Duo's slick skin but he also wanted Duo to be happy and instinctively he knew that only Heero could provide that for the American.

Back inside of Trowa's room Duo dressed hastily. He knew that what he had done was go searching for sexual pleasure again, as he always did when he was unhappy. He didn't particularly care, however. Perhaps he could forge a relationship with Trowa - the type of relationship that he had been unable to achieve with Heero. He looked down at his fake nails, one of them broken, and sighed. He finished cleaning up and left the room, hair still suitably mussed, clothes still hanging loosely on his body, and walked dejectedly down to his room. He didn't want to face Heero. But when he entered the room, it was clean, unlike when he'd left, and there was a printout lying on the desk. Curiously he picked it up and read it.

~Precious Things

sometimes it's dark  
the night bleeds into my skin  
and my flesh burns

and then i look over at him  
his lovely eyes closed  
his face relaxed in repose

and i want to kiss that brow  
stroke that softness  
and i know what this elusive

thing he calls love appears  
to be  
but even these precious things

are often taken from me  
and left to decay   
in the cold

and i can't make  
any difference  
but a kiss~

Duo dropped the poem on Heero's desk and felt tears banging against his unrelenting eyelids. But he refused to cry, even if Heero *had* managed to pen bittersweet, beautiful poetry - the words on the page had positively vibrated with emotion. Duo looked at the bare, unforgiving door.  
"Was I wrong about him?" he said aloud, his body shimmering with anxiety.

~end ch. 15~


	17. Blood and Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, something happens. I just don't know what it is. HA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extremely graphic corpse scene - it will be noted so that those who wish can skip in entirely. A much nicer way of portraying it has been included. And please avoid this scene if you have a weak stomach!
> 
> *italics*  
> crossdressing

Duo surveyed the room a final time to make sure that he had not left anything anywhere. He ducked his head down and looked underneath the bed for any of his belongings, but all he spied was dust - a lot of it. Satisfied that all of his things had been collected and that he wouldn't leave anything behind, he picked up the duffel bag and his small suitcase and grinned at Trowa, standing as quietly as a ghost in the doorway. He left all of Heero's things untouched, with the possible exception that he had stripped Heero's bed. Let Heero make up his own sheets with his perfect hospital corners. Duo tossed the duffel to Trowa, still garbed in his uniform, who caught it easily, and they walked out the room. Duo shut and locked the door behind them. Duo smiled up at the taller pilot and slipped his fingers into Trowa's. He looked, for all intents and purposes, like a rather shy young debutante. He was wearing a white blouse and a knee-length pleated skirt, complete with white knee socks and patent leather Mary Janes. His long hair had been pulled away from his face with two tortoiseshell clips and he appeared quite beautiful. It was all that Trowa could do not to throw him down in the hallway and just make love to him right there. Duo let out a giggle and Trowa glanced down at the "girl" holding his hand.  
"Dinah? What's so funny?" Trowa inquired mildly.  
"Well," Duo managed through a fit of giggles, "can you imagine the look on Keiko's face when she realizes that I've moved out of her room? I'm glad that I'm moving in with Tori, because she was really hard to tolerate at times. Obsessively neat and all." Duo burst into fresh laughter at the slight widening of Trowa's visible green eye. But he didn't say a word, just shrugged. They reached Trowa's room at the end of the hall and Trowa unlocked the door, giving Duo a shove on the behind to get him into the room. Duo tossed a mock glare over his shoulder but didn't make good on the vague threat said look promised. Trowa closed the door silently behind them and then stood solemnly in front of it, carefully observing his "girl." Duo was unpacking his suitcase, throwing his crosswords on the bed, the manga he shoved beneath it, and his clothes he actually attempted to hang up in the closet. Unfortunately, Duo wasn't very accomplished at hanging up feminine clothing and he soon found Trowa assisting him. After several long minutes of utter silence Trowa finally spoke up.  
"I snuck into the base this afternoon. Currently they believe I am resting in my quarters, which means that I have to get back as soon as possible. What that means is I am going to be leaving now. Pack a change of clothes, sneak out, and then make sure you get in and out of the base in the next forty-five minutes. That's all the time that you have, including travel time. The reason for this is that they are holding a ceremonial dinner for me but it won't last very long and once the main course is through the less important officials will return to their posts. This includes the computer room. Heero will be waiting around the block with the getaway car that Quatre purchased - he doesn't like stealing things." Trowa's tone became faintly disapproving on his final words but he did not elaborate. Duo nodded affirmative and Trowa left the room, military heels clicking on the tile. Quickly Duo packed a change of clothes - his normal black garb - and then he followed Trowa at a discreet distance. Once he'd made it off campus he snuck into the shrubbery and changed, sliding the tiny microdisc into the underside of his shirt. Satisified that he would not be noticeable in the darkness and he began jogging at a sedate pace. He would reach the base in approximately ten minutes and then he would have fifteen minutes to sneak in and copy the necessary files. Once that was done he would have five minutes to sneak back out of the base, which left him fifteen minutes to change back into his girl's clothes and meet up with the others at the car.

~*~*~

Heero was furious. He could not *believe* that Duo had the audacity to just move out of the room that they shared. He knew that he hadn't given Duo any reason to desire to remain, but nonetheless they should have discussed it at least. Heero's lips curved wryly when he realized that Duo didn't believe he was capable of discussing *anything* other than perhaps their missions. On the bright side of things, Quatre and Wufei had reported that they had seen him leave the building, which meant that he at least intended to fulfill his part in the mission. Heero gave a final, detached glance to the room - a room like any other. He refused to recall the moments of sparkling pleasure that had burst like crystal in the sun. Duo had no way of knowing Heero's feelings and Heero could not afford to let them be known too early. He should have realized, however, that Duo only exercised his intelligence when he chose to do so. When faced with Heero's words - words that suggested a level of caring for both the American pilot and his opinions - he had chosen to disregard them because they did not fit in with his plans for life. Heero understood that that was the crux of the matter. He couldn't come clean with his emotions because of the war and Duo couldn't plan for the future including Heero because he had already made plans. But Heero was still utterly incensed. The stupid baka hadn't even left a note. He wouldn't even know where Duo had gone if Quatre hadn't seen fit to inform him that Duo had been seen moving his things into "Tori's" room by some of the insipid girls at the school they were attending. Heero let out a low growl in the base of his throat and tucked his gun into the small of his back, inside the waistband of his skirt. He was getting sick of wearing clothes of the opposite sex but he understood that he had no choice. Once the files had been retrieved, however, they could pack things up and take off to the new hangar where they had hidden the Gundams, move the Gundams again, and then hide out in one of Quatre's safehouses while they perused the files for any discrepancies or inconstancies. Heero had immediately noted how his bed had been stripped but he refused to take the bait. If Duo was trying to make him even more angry it wasn't going to work. Thanks to Duo, he could make his *own* bed, and therefore he could also make it *better* than Duo ever could. Heero pursed his lips and blew out a breath that ruffled his tousled bangs. He had been waiting for Wufei's signal to depart and get in the brand new car Quatre had bought. Wufei gave him the all clear signal and Heero nodded once, then climbed out the window and dropped three feet down onto the pavement. He suffered a slight shock of pain in his insoles and his skirt billowed up a bit, but other than that, he emerged entirely unscathed. Flashing a signal back to Wufei, Heero jumped in the car and squealed out of the driveway. He was being purposefully loud so as to appear less suspicious, but once he'd cleared the campus he slowed down and turned his lights off. Dusk had fallen over the city and he didn't want to be observed. He crept around the base and parked in the designated rendezvous spot. Satisfied that there was no one about for miles, he slipped one of Duo's manga out from underneath the seat and began to read. He would have preferred to bring his laptop but that wasn't feasible.

~*~*~ 15 minutes...

Duo had finally made it into the computer room. He had stupidly taken a wrong turn because the adrenaline from earlier that afternoon was still pumping through his body. He knew it had taken considerable daring and courage to sneak out of the room they shared while Heero wasn't even around, and he knew that Heero was more than likely fit to kill him for disappearing without even a note. The computers were situated in neat rows in the center of the room. Directly in the middle of the line of computers was one that was larger and the screen was covered with more dust. Duo knew that this was the main computer, the one used the most and cleaned the least. It was still on, whirring gently in the humidity, its monitor glowing a soft green in the unlit room. Duo made a quick circuit of the room with both his eyes and his body and then he slipped into the chair in front of the main terminal. He began clicking keys quickly and quietly and he had managed to hack into the database in three minutes, which left twelve minutes for him to copy the extensive collection of files on all of the officers that currently had contact with Treize and also those who had had contact with him in the past when he was still part of OZ. He slipped the microdisc into the drive and directed the computer to begin copying. Then he began praying that Trowa would keep everyone suitably distracted long enough and that he wouldn't get captured.

~*~*~ 7 minutes...

Trowa was smiling and laughing, pretending to partake of the drink flowing freely around the table. The officials were quickly getting drunk. As a visiting general, he was an important figure and it was unseemly to drink any less than the general did, lest he get drunk. So Trowa kept drinking, secretly pleased that he had been so well accustomed to liquor when he lived with the mercenaries. He could drink men twice his size and weight under that table, keep imbibing, and not get drunk - unless it was rum. Rum made him drunk almost instantly and for an unknown reason. But these OZ soldiers were serving vodka and tequila, so Trowa was well in the clear. He kept holding up his glass for more, fully aware that the drunker the rest of the soldiers got the better chance that Duo had to escape. And in the morning, when the others woke up, they would be unable to tell through the haze of hangovers that the departing general was a different man from the one they had entertained the previous night. The true general had been knocked unconscious, locked in a closet, and drugged. He would never be able to comclusively say what had happened to him, which was the point. The officers were laughing raucously, eyes going blank from too muc alcohol, and at last Trowa slammed his glass down on the table. Grinning ominously, he announced that he was going to be seeking out his bed, and that everyone else should get back to work at once. He knew, however, that most of them were too intoxicated to do anything and would likely pass out. Some of those at the table already had. Trowa tipped his hat to them and disappeared through the door, creeping through the undergrowth to the place where he was supposed to meet up with Duo.

~*~*~ 6 minutes...

Heero hid the manga beneath the seat again and turned the key in the ignition, the engine purring to life like a well-fed cat. Duo and Trowa were expected increasingly soon and he did not want to waste time getting the car in gear. One foot on the brake, the engine idling, he began scanning the inky darkness for his comrades. He expected Duo first simply because he was smaller, faster, and more impatient. That and he was better at melting into the shadows. Trowa could camouflage himself in plain view, while Duo could simply vanish, and if he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. Heero knew that if Duo decided to disappear after the war that no one would ever be able to locate him. After all, Duo could hack better than most of the high-ranking officials of the computer industry, and only Heero came close to approaching his skill. While none of the pilots knew where he had learned it, Heero was well-aware that *he* was the only one with a chance of finding Duo when Duo didn't want to be found, and he also knew he wouldn't be able to do it. Heero pushed the dank thoughts out of his mind and continued his visual scan of the surrounding area.

~*~*~ 3 minutes...

Duo had just ejected the disc when he heard voices in the corridor. Instead of panicking, though, he just snickered to himself. In his earlier canvass of the room he had observed a tiny crawlspace that would be the perfect place to disappear until whoever was in the hall had continued on their way. Secreting the disc in his black combat boots, he dropped to the floor and slithered over to the hidden passage and then ducked inside. And nearly threw up.

~*~*~ 1 minute...

There was no sign of Duo where Trowa was standing. He fidgeted and then made a snap decision. If they had to they would leave Duo behind, he would still be able to escape, it was almost certain, and he could find his own way back to the school. Trowa hated to do it but he took off at a loping jog, checking the tiny stopwatch he'd hidden in his sleeve. Duo had just run out of time and they couldn't afford to wait any longer. As Trowa was moving he heard a sudden sound. A sound that was out-of-place but one that only a Gundam pilot would recognize. He hesitated and the sound came again, a lilting call, low and haunting. It was the call of the infamous banshee, or at the very least, a certain young pilot's interpretation. It mimicked the cry of a loon or other night bird, yet there was a distinctly human trill that flowed through it like rainbows appearing in rain soaked clouds. Duo had perfected the sound some time ago as a signal that only his fellow pilots would recognize and comprehend. Anyone else who heard it would assume it was some sort of a bird or animal, and the more fanciful among them might believe that it was a ghost or other spook. Trowa gave a last glance over to where he could hear the car idling and hoped fervently that Heero heard the mournful call. Then he took off apace towards where the moan was originating.

~*~*~ -3 minutes... (GRAPHIC SCENE AHEAD - if you wish, skip to the next set of asterisks for the clean version)

Duo could barely keep his stomach in check to make his special call, but he cupped his hands and did it once, twice, three times - that was as many as he dared. Then he looked back to his side and finally acknowledged her. She was naked, her clothes long stripped away. Her skin had been abraded and literally torn from her body in places, done in such a vicious yet methodical manner that it was this that was turning Duo's stomach over and over. She had been scalped cleanly, her hair hanging limply from a small hook above her motionless head. Her wide blue eyes had filmed over some time ago but were still open, seeing straight ahead into eternity. Her feet had been severed from her legs with what must have been a dull blade and her blood covered the floor where Duo sat, congealed and dried a bruised black. Her arms had been ripped from the sockets and the bones had been used to form a crude, upside down cross above her head. Instinctively Duo knew that he had found the remains of the hapless May Harper, he just wondered desperately who had killed her. He did not know if it was the man who had raped her or someone else, but he hoped Trowa reached him soon. He could not just leave her there, no matter how badly her body had been desecrated. He felt a tear trace down his cheek and he knew that few things - as in, only Sister Helen's death to date - ever made him cry. But the senseless, overly violent murder of a thirteen year old girl had done him in. The clear liquid dripped onto the floor and soaked through her blood, but that was the only tear that fell. He glanced at her again and nearly vomited. Her throat had been cut and there were markings carved into her entire body. Somehow Duo knew that her corpse was going to be important evidence, he just hoped someone else would have to examine her. Duo could barely stand to be sitting so close to her.

~*~*~ -3 minutes (relatively clean version)

Duo could barely keep his stomach in check to make his special call, but he cupped his hands and did it once, twice, three times - that was as many as he dared. Then he looked back to his side and finally acknowledged her. The girl that he identified as May Harper - more by the process of elimination than because she was recognizable - had been brutally slain and her body had been sacrilegiously desecrated. He turned away from her to keep from vomiting and prayed that Trowa would heed his call. He wondered desperately who had killed her. He did not know if it was the man who had raped her or someone else, but he hoped Trowa reached him soon. He could not just leave her there, no matter how badly her body had been desecrated. He felt a tear trace down his cheek and he knew that few things - as in, only Sister Helen's death to date - ever made him cry. But the senseless, overly violent murder of a thirteen year old girl had done him in. The clear liquid dripped onto the floor and soaked through her blood, but that was the only tear that fell. Somehow Duo knew that her corpse was going to be important evidence, he just hoped someone else would have to examine her. Duo could barely stand to be sitting so close to her.

~*~*~ -7 minutes

When Trowa finally came upon Duo huddled inside the crawl space he was literally astonished to the point of speechlessness. The gory scene laid out before him was in equal parts worse and more horrifying than anything he'd ever seen even amongst the carnage of war - because this was deliberate. He took in Duo's appearance and received yet another shock. The American was ashen, bones trembling slightly under translucent, paper-smooth skin, eyes wild with revulsion. A tear had left a clear track on his cheek and he barely acknowledged Trowa at first, at least until the taller pilot leaned forward and kissed him gently. Duo retched in response but blinked up at the green eyes glowing faintly in the deepness of the crawlspace.  
"Evidence," Duo croaked through an excessively dry throat, "we have to bring her with us somehow."  
"All right, yes, that's true," Trowa spoke so softly he was nearly mouthing his words. He made a motion to Duo that implied he would be right back and then he went searching for something to carry her body in. After several moments he found a large tarp and decided it would have to do. He returned to Duo with the tarp, glad that the soldiers and officers were too drunk to be coherent, but nonetheless painfully aware that someone could come along at any time. They had exceeded their quota of minutes a long time ago. With Duo's somewhat feeble assistance they managed to load her into the tarp and wrap it around her. Then they snuck down the corrider, hyper-aware of their precarious situation. Their mission had just become a lot more deadly and neither pilot wanted to end up mutilated and killed like May Harper had been. Somehow they managed to get out of the base undetected. Trowa figured it must have been a small miracle of some sort and he hefted the tarp up further on his shoulder. The stoic pilot as revolted and yet still he could function, unlike Duo who was in shock. The braided pilot was silent, mouth still slack, eyes still dark and blank. Trowa was more worried about Duo than he was about May - the corpse. He understood, though, that Duo must have been keeping company with her gruesome cadavar for quite sometime before Trowa had gotten to him. Which meant that Trowa did not blame him in the least for going into shock.

~*~*~ -17 minutes

Heero groaned to himself in the car. They had doubled their allotted time and still thay hadn't returned. He was on the verge of becoming seriously concerned when he caught sight of a tall figure with something large slung over his shoulder coming towards him. He would have dismissed him as one of his comrades if not for the pilot keeping pace, a long braid trailing behind him like a drooping tail. Heero sat up straighter and swore. Something had obviously happened to complicate their mission further. He clutched at the door handle and threw the latch, car door swinging open. Trowa offered no explanations, just motioned towards the trunk. Heero impatiently popped the trunk, watched as Trowa deposited his load and then crossed over to where Duo was shivering in the grass. He nudged the American gently inside the car and slipped in after him.  
"Drive - fast." Trowa ordered in a clipped tone. Heero shot him a questioning glance but Trowa said only,  
"Explain later." his green eyes glittering dangerously. Heero floored the accelerator and the car nearly took flight as they left the OZ base behind them in a cloud of choking black dust.

~end ch. 16~


	18. Breaking Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For all I know there could be a giant pink bunny in here!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *italics*  
> ~psychic sequence~  
> Supernatural elements  
> gruesomeness

Quatre and Wufei tugged on the heavy tarp until it was completely inside the hangar. Heero had given them a quick briefing - mostly repeating the words that Trowa had told him - and then he had lifted the cover, exposing the dead girl to their shocked gazes. But Quatre had immediately leaned down, ignoring the stench, the blood, and the general nastiness and placed a hand over her flesh where her heart had once beat steadily with life. His other palm he pressed to his own heart and then he closed his eyes, allowing his empathic ability to ooze into her body and seek some sort of answers. Finally he got to his feet and looked over at Heero.  
"Let me examine her, okay? I think I can figure out who killed her - an image, not a name," he clarified. Wufei wore an expression of dismay and disgust but he nodded, and offered to help Quatre. Heero left the corpse in their capable hands and returned to the room with Duo. A few minutes later Trowa walked in just long enough to give them a quick rundown on Duo's condition.  
"Duo's in shock, he had to stay with her till I got there," Trowa explained, "He feels responsible for both her rape and her death. It compounded the effect of how badly she was mutilated. Anyway, I have to get back, Heero doesn't really know how to deal with things like this." And with those words, Trowa departed and Quatre looked at Wufei again. They were alone - excepting the poor girl, lying wrapped in plastic, her body in pieces. Quatre bent down on one knee and pushed the plastic away from her face. Wufei remained a distant presence, by the wall, refusing to come any closer. The smell filled him with dread and reminded him of the destruction of his clan. He closed his eyes and yet images of war still littered his mental screen. He'd seen more than his share of the dead and dying - they all had - what had once been people, lying charred and bloody in the wreckage of their lives and the ideals they had fought for. Everyone died the same, in the end - alone, pitifully defeated by the natural weakness of their frail human bodies. Blood spills, bones snap, and the sound of screaming chokes the atmosphere with its anguish. Wufei opened his eyes, banishing the pictures still swarming in his brain. He focused on the pilot kneeling on the floor, his hair the color of wheat, his eyes the color of a calm Jamaican sea, his natural purity outweighing the dark stains of battle on his soul. Wufei loved Quatre simply because even in the midst of the most demeaning things one human could do to another, he never lost hope. It burned brightly within him, a flame that had sputtered in adversity but had never gone out. A little bit of light, a living candle that Wufei sought out whenever his personal darkness threatened to consume him. 

Quatre's fingers tingled with a multitude of brief flashing images, the iris of an eye, pupil wildly dilated, a sharp violet color bleeding into the whites, lashes striking against a hard surface, a pink hue of an unseen object filling his inner vision, and then he drew his hands away from her. He had seen something. A shadowy figure, tall but not too tall, and a uniform - this he could only just make out - the glint of moonlight off of a badge. Some sort of OZ soldier, Quatre concluded. He placed a hand on her forehead and gasped. Searing golden mingling with the deepest ebony, and feelings of intense pleasure, and then a gasp of air blowing against his face, and the two colors swirled together and separated, trying to coalesce as one but unable to do so. Breathing raggedly Quatre pulled his hands away from her again. She was dead but the psychic impressions of her murder remained ingrained deep within her body. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead and his body heaved against the exhausting process. Quatre knew that if he lay his hands on her again he would "see" the actual murder, a clash of colors, images and feelings that would abruptly cease. He did not want to experience the rape and the murder but he drew in a calming breath, sticky in his lungs, and dropped both hands onto her, one on her head and one over her heart.

~ _pain, shearing. Dark red. Blue. Cool. Distant light swirling. Pain! PAIN! struggles fights wishes dreams hopes pouring into the sand heavy cold ow pain distant fear choking screaming can't breathe can't can't can't hard breathe fight hard struck struck gun knife fight peel PAIN! Amber. Gold. Silver bleeds daylight. Hot crimson. burgundy. violet. blood. scraping. scritch scritch slurp peel --_ ~

Quatre let go, sweat literally streaming from every pore. Her suffering had been intense, primal. She had been tortured before she was killed. Wufei appeared at his side and pulled the drained blonde into his arms. Running cool fingers up and down Quatre's bare, sweat-slick arms, massaging his shoulders, Wufei gave him a reassuring smile and kissed the tip of the blonde pilot's nose.  
"Are you all right?"  
"Will be, soon..." Quatre said between the breaths that huffed impatiently in and out of his body.  
"What did you see?"  
"I saw - enough. Blonde and dark and a figure crouching over her. Us, Fei, it's her - the girl that ran past - and it's him - the guy who chased her - that's who raped her - that's who killed her--"  
"Shh..."  
"And tortured her - he did those awful things to her when she was alive - she was in so much pain I couldn't even keep contact until the end." Eyes the color of a stormy sky met Wufei's. They were filled with her anguish, and her fear, and the colors shifted impossibly with the turbulent emotions roiling within the blonde. "I couldn't even stay with her, and she had to be present for every little thing he did to her." Tears welled under his lids but did not fall. "I just couldn't bear it a second longer and I hate myself for it. I wish I could have helped her."  
"It's too late to help her now, except to find her killer and bring him to justice."  
"I know, Wu, I know. It's too awful to talk about - I can't even describe the impressions I got from her." Quatre leaned his head against Wufei's strong, warm shoulder. Wufei cradled it and stroked the blonde strands of hair, unsticking them from Quatre's forehead.  
"We'll find him, and you'll be all right."  
"I know..." Quatre's whisper swept out of him like a cool breeze in a cemetery. Wufei merely continued to hold his lover close, the warmth of his body seeping into Quatre's cold soul, their auras gently ebbing against each other, each one a perfect complement to the other.

~*~*~

Duo was sitting on the edge of Trowa's bed, his entire body rippling with continued involuntary movement, his legs hanging over the side, not quite touching the floor. Trowa was kneeling in front of him, talking soothingly to him, rubbing his shoulders. Heero was standing ineffectually by the door, feeling unwanted and useless - similar to another time that Trowa had been needed to help Duo recover from his personal demons. Trowa jerked his head up towards Heero.  
"Get that blanket and wrap it around him. He's in shock but he'll be okay." Trowa explained. Heero nearly saluted but restrained himself, fetching the blanket and draping it around Duo's shivering body. Duo's pupils were highly dilated and Trowa could tell that he was seeing any number of horrifying things, not all of them necessarily a reflection on recent events. It was a tragedy that May Harper had been abducted, raped, and killed, but what was most important now was helping Duo and then finding her killer. Neither Heero nor Trowa knew it but they were both hoping the same thing - that her killer was the same person as the spy. That way they had an excuse to torture the man to death. Trowa talked in a low drone, an endless wash of words that flowed around Duo like a calm, warm sea. Gradually he began to blink more often and his eyes lost some of the unearthly flatness that had dominated them. He made true eye contact with Trowa and a ghost of a smile haunted his lips for a moment. Trowa returned the smile to him - like an unconditional gift - and leaned forward to kiss him softly. Trowa's warm lips touched Duo's like butterfly wings unfurling in the early sunrise. Heero tensed, an angry scowl burning on his face and in his ocean blue eyes. He had known that Duo was attractive to Trowa but he hadn't realized that Duo would gravitate to him once he was free. And, Heero admitted bitterly, he *was.* Heero had fucked things up between them and he'd lost him. He had no right to be feeling the jealousy that coursed through his veins like thick sludge. There was a sour taste dancing about on his tongue, and while he understood that Trowa cared for Duo as well, it did not stop him from loathing the other pilot's blatant advances. But Duo's color was flooding back into his thin face and he was responding to Trowa's bedside manner - yet another thing Heero did not possess. Heero watched Trowa deepen the kiss just barely before he whirled and stalked out of the room. He never saw the panic flare in Duo's eyes as the one he loved left him. Trowa tasted wonderful, like spices and the safety of a grandmother's kitchen, yet he wasn't Heero. And Duo still wanted Heero, even if things were muddled between them. He wondered if they were impossibly tangled in the strings that bound them to each other. He closed his eyes and allowed the sensation of a kiss done right to sear down to his toes, warming him from the inside out. When he opened them again he was looking directly into a pair of eyes like chips of the deepest emeralds. Trowa sighed and stood up, crossing the room to stand in front of the window.  
"Duo - I know that you love him. I also know that you refuse to admit this fact to yourself. Well, you belong with him, it's true, but I'm going to take what I can while you two fight it out. I can give you advice and I can give you pleasure but that's all. At some point you are going to have to either come clean with him or make a permanent decision. But he's hurting due to your current choice." Trowa watched the sun bleed into the night sky and waited. Duo looked up, eyes fusing to Trowa's back.  
"I know. And I know he's hurt, but he hurt me at first and it shall be up to him to apologize. I have a life to lead, Tro, that doesn't include him no matter how much anyone wishes it did. If we're truly meant to be then he will have to learn to wait. Admittedly, patience is not my strong suit, either, but there are no other viable options. Now, I do believe I am strong enough to pore over those files. Where are they?"  
"Heero has them." Trowa didn't turn around. Duo had gotten up and was searching his clothes when the cool worlds penetrated.  
"What? Did you plan that?" Duo cried, anger nipping at his tone.  
"No. He chose to take them. He said that if you wished you could assist him. Go, Duo. I'll be here when you get back and I'll show you a way to keep the nightmares at bay." Trowa told him, monotone never wavering. Duo cracked an ironic smile. Caught between two quiet rocks, he thought to himself with a dollop of mirth. Then he went to the door, opened it, and went out. He didn't see Trowa's strong shoulders slump when the door clicked closed behind him. Deep within Trowa knew that he had lost him, again. He also knew it was the right thing to do. That, however, provided small comfort in the face of rushing disappointment, the ache of a heart too often broken. A heart that had yet to know love that nourished rather than destroyed. Trowa looked up at the rising sun and wished for Caro with every fiber in his being.

~*~*~

Duo paused outside the door, debating whether to knock. Finally he made up his mind and pressed his knuckles to the wood with a swift crack. The door swung inward and Heero stood there, framed by the sun exploding into the room, his hair a brilliant halo around his head. He was wearing a frilly white nightgown. Duo smiled impishly at the sight of the Japanese soldier looking so feminine and virginal. Duo himself was wearing a turquoise negligee that just brushed the tops of his thighs. He had changed into it when they had returned to the school - more accurately, Trowa had dressed him in it. Heero swallowed. Duo looked exquisite, slightly frail yet infinitely lovely. Heero gulped down his errant thoughts and motioned Duo into the room. Duo had an uncertain light clouding his eyes. Finally he spoke.  
"Where is she?"  
"At the hangar. Believe it or not, Quatre and Wufei were the only ones who could stand to do an autopsy of sorts." Heero said slowly. Duo's violet eyes mirrored disbelief. Then he wrapped his arms around his middle and began to laugh.  
"Kat's been keeping even more secrets--" his laughter came to an abrupt halt when Heero's mouth descended upon Duo's, crashing down with a hungry force. He ravaged Duo's mouth with his tongue and his teeth and his hands tore the negligee from Duo's body. For several seconds Duo responded ardently, lips and teeth playing at Heero's, then he stiffened and began to struggle. Before Heero knew what was happening he had a knife at his throat and Duo was breathing heavily, eyes incredibly wild. He looked like a feral animal that had come out to feed on its prey.  
"Don't - don't. Just don't!" Duo screamed from a raw throat.  
Heero stepped forward to comfort Duo but the American's voice bit through the tension with whiplike precision.  
"I can see her face everywhere I look and I remember how I could have saved her. He was raping her and I could have killed him and rescued her." Before Duo could speak again the door raged open. Wufei and Quatre, looking somewhat green and panting, tumbled into the room.  
"I've completed my initial examination,” Quatre informed them, teeth clicking against each other.  
“It was a rough experience,” Wufei added, a hand gently massaging Quatre’s spine. Quatre shot him a grateful glance and tried to get his breathing under control and calm his heart rate back down to normal.  
“I simply *can’t* go into details, so you will have to trust me on this. It was nearly too much for me to view it, experience it, *be* it - so don’t expect me to go into deep explanations. The short of it is that I believe that the man who raped her is also the one who killed her.” Quatre halted the hurried stream of words and leaned into Wufei’s soothing touch on his back, grounding him, keeping him from falling into a flashback.  
“He tortured her while alive. Whoever this bastard is, he is sadistic and must be punished. Pain equal to what he has caused should be meted out. However, because we are merciful, I think we can all agree on certain mental tortures that will drive him to kill himself.” Wufei offered in a steady tone. Heero gave them a complacent look and then a terrifying smile dawned on his face. He began to laugh, the unreal, hysterical laughter of the truly unbalanced. He choked off the sound with a hand motion sideways, something to convey his English had deserted him.  
“Hai - he shall receive no less than he deserves. I shall endeavor to find the perfect torture. I am certain he will quite enjoy himself until he realizes that it is not a game.” Heero clasped his hands tightly together and returned his attention to Duo, who was still wavering on his feet, eyes rolled almost completely back with his panic and loss of control.  
“Is he going to be okay?” Quatre asked a bit timidly - rather an interesting twist, Wufei thought, the only one of us who can bear to be near her and he is brought up short by his friend. Doubtless, though, Duo was a terrifying sight to behold. His hair was torn from it’s braid, a wild tangled mass that clouded around his body. He was shaking with barely suppressed energy so strong Quatre could actually *see* his aura vibrating with it. If Duo lost complete control of his soul they would be plunged into chaos, and the blonde stepped back, wondering if he would uncover lethal telekinetic powers if he searched Duo’s mind and being. Wufei moved a bit closer, hand outstretched as if to grant Duo purchase in reality, and mimicked Quatre.  
“Is he all right?” Wufei asked in a strong, concerned voice. Heero nodded then stepped forward, causing Duo to back up, his breath thrashing in his throat, his knife quivering with the fear and anger of its possesser. Heero kept this up until Duo landed on the bed. Heero gazed deep into the hungry, frightened, guilty lavender eyes and then drew his gun. He pounded the butt of the gun with incredible force into the wall beside Duo, who barely flinched. Seeing this, he inhaled, then forced his arm to make contact with the side of Duo's head. Duo crumpled against the bed, eyes slowly losing the wildness that gleamed deep within them. Quatre and Wufei were so stunned they had no time to react and keep Heero from hitting Duo.  
"He needed it - just trust me." Heero explained, then he bent over the prone pilot on the bed and kissed the spot he had so brutally attacked.  
"Gomen ne, Duo. But it was necessary. Now, would you care to help me uncover this spy?" Heero asked him, gentling his tone far more than he had his arm. Quatre came a tad nearer to the dramatic scene unfolding in front of his incredulous eyes. He knew that Heero was correct in his assessment. There had been a time to calmly and rationally talk Duo through the demons battering his body and soul. That time had passed and drastic measures had been required to bring Duo’s mind back into his body. Quatre dropped a hand onto Heero’s shoulder, not at all surprised to read genuine caring in the prussian blue eyes when they focused on him.  
“He is a lot stronger than I believed. I had thought that he was a bit psychic, but nothing like this. He could be deadly if he doesn’t learn to control his anger and anguish. If OZ should ever discover this, they could unleash him on *us* - with the right type of mind control they could harness this supernatural power and gain an advantage over us - even with the Gundams. This stays between us, and not only that, but no one is to say anything to Duo unless there is a reoccurrance. I don’t want him to try and leash it as power. It’s too raw and tied too closely with his guilt.” After Quatre’s explanation he removed his hand and looked at the other pilots, practically begging them to understand. Heero nodded slowly and his gaze fell again on the pilot still struggling slightly on the bed, body awhirl of confusion. Heero strengthened his hold and vowed never to let Duo discover he had the capability to kill with his mind. As if Quatre read his mind, he whispered,  
“He won’t really remember the psychic aspect. We can explain in more natural terms - right now though he’s returning to consciousness - he was out of consciousness in a sense - and we need to start interacting *with* him instead of gathering around him.” the blonde smiled reassuringly at Heero and then moved backwards into his own lover’s arms. Heero gave a curt nod to the blonde.  
“Arigatou, Quatre. Duo - can you hear me?”  
“Hai,” the pilot croaked raggedly.  
“Perhaps you should rest for some time and then we can scour the files you obtained.”  
“Acceptable,” Duo shoved out of his uncooperative throat, “gomen ne for freaking on you guys.” While his Japanese accent was lamentable, he was improving, and Heero loved to hear his native language out of the mouth of his lover. After recent events Duo could not form enough coherent thoughts to remind himself he did not want to encourage Heero. The Japanese words slid out of his mouth like ice on a hot day and he was asleep before he could realize his error and attempt to correct it.

~*~*~

Duo clicked over to another window, moving the mouse cursor over the filenames. When he'd woken up Heero had been sleeping, likely because it was around three in the morning. But Duo was restless, he'd been resting and moving in between consciousness for hours. He had strange dreams filled with odd feelings. As if there was a feather tickling his subconscious, as if there were something that he should be remembering. Finally he had lain still, opening his eyes and slowly allowing the darkness of the room to creep into his vision. Once he had accustomed himself to the darkness he had slipped silently out of bed and switched Heero's laptop on. He was the only person allowed to touch it - hell, even allowed *near* it. Heero preferred that Duo ask permission, but while he'd been drifting in dreamland he'd kept having an odd sensation trickle through his mind. He had an idea, something of a hunch, really, that he just had to check out. It had been difficult to remain so still for so long, to let the nightmares keep him even when all he wanted to do was escape. But they were telling him something, he knew that much. So he had forcibly pushed himself even further under until the pictures became clear, suddenly shifting into sharp focus. He could feel Quatre very close to him, psychically, and he knew he had tapped into some sort of strange, yet not entirely unexpected, connection. At last he found the file he'd been looking for. When he opened Lt. Walker's log of personal data he was not the least bit surprised to discover that it was empty. It had been filled with unencrypted gibberish, letters and symbols that Duo instinctively knew meant nothing at all to anyone. Impulsively he clicked open a different log - one Lt. Otto - and found it stuffed with data, references, notes, and cautions. Someone had been very careful to make sure his data was corrupted. Duo smiled to himself. Perfect. He was going to enjoy deciphering the strange code that had led to the symbols. He didn't know exactly how, but again, an odd sensation permeated his lower consciousness and he knew that he could unravel all of the gibberish into something that made coherent sense. Indeed, the combinations of letters, numbers, and symbols appeared daunting, especially when one considered the fact that it had not been deliberately coded - more like accidentally. But Duo was not deterred in the least. A little voice told him that he could find meaning in the madness - and that only *he* could.

Three hours later he had cracked enough of it to clap his hands together loudly. Heero stirred on the bed but Duo ignored him, grinning gleefully at the few words he had managed to decode. It wasn't much, but it would be enough. Again, Duo smiled, but this time it was the frightening grin of the Devil about to devour his prey. He reread the few words, then repeated them out loud for the benefit of his partner. Despite being mostly asleep Duo knew Heero would wake instantly when he heard the words.  
"Romefeller...assassination...Tallgeese and Tallgeese II...credits deposit...the month...May...Lex. And Treize. Just enough," and with that, Duo laughed. It was more of a low growl, but Heero sat up in bed and found himself staring at Duo. The pilot was illuminated by the green glow of the screen, shirtless, hair fluttering around him. Upon closer inspection Heero could tell that Duo was wearing only his boxers and a terrifying smile. As if he had sensed Heero's awakening and conscious presence, Duo turned to him. With a tiny smile that he reserved for those he was close to, he gestured Heero over to look at the screen. When Heero got a good look at the mass of useless letters and symbols and then the words that Duo had somehow retrieved from the mess he was startled. He gave his partner a searching glance but Duo shrugged innocuously.  
"Luck. And a feeling," was all he would say. But it was painfully clear as crystal to both of them that Lt. Walker was the spy. Heero shook his head, hair flopping messily.  
"I don't believe it. He's always held the utmost loyalty to Treize. What could possibly have turned him into a Benedict Arnold?"  
"Or a Judas..." Duo murmured, a furrow of contemplation creasing his brow. Heero gave his partner and lover a confused quirk of his eyebrow. Duo, without even looking at him, smiled.  
"That is quite endearing, that little quirk. Judas betrayed Jesus with a kiss." His voice was low, delicious in its intensity. Heero didn't want to know how much Duo's powers had improved because of that afternoon. All he knew was that Duo could tell things without even looking. He leaned closer to the lean American pilot. He brushed his lips across Duo's earlobe then retreated.  
"Where did you learn about religion?" Heero inquired curiously, not expecting a straight answer. He was not disappointed.  
"Same place that I initially donned my usual outfit." With shock Heero realized that Duo was being about as loquacious as himself. That is, not much, not at all. The sudden brevity in his speech threw Heero for a loop and he found himself simply standing, not saying a word. Duo jumped up from the chair and in a whirl of activity began throwing clothes on. A padded bra, tshirt, and low jeans found their way onto his slim, chiseled body. Heero gulped, watching his lover dress, then followed suit. He knew that Duo had a good reason, he was merely waiting to hear it.  
"We move out tonight. We can subdue him and take him - blindfolded - to the hangar. Then we assassinate as ordered. You may type the report. Expect to be back in--" here he paused for a second, cocking his head for a moment, "fifty-two minutes." Then he tucked a knife into his combat boots, slipping his gun into the waistband of his jeans, secreted a grenade on his slender body, and hid a tranq gun on his person when Heero was looking away. Heero again followed suit, right down the the razor Duo slid into his freshly braided hair - plaited competently and quickly - only Heero hid his inside his other shoe. Duo gave him a nod, one finger jerking towards the door, and they moved out, not a sound breaking the silence.

~end ch. 17~


	19. Assassination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something. Maybe an appendectomy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *italics*  
> violence  
> crossdressing

It was eerie, Heero reflected as they took noiseless steps down the hallway. He'd never been around Duo when he was so quiet *and* awake. It was no secret that Duo liked to talk. Giving the braided pilot a sideways glance Heero pondered Duo's psychology. It took him but a moment to draw the conclusion that Duo talked to keep himself from thinking too much. Heero had often been the first to see Duo after a battle, and sometimes, the weariness and pain writ all over that expressive face caused him to draw in a breath. Those eyes, that shifted color like the sea, would fill with a soul deep anguish, and Duo would push past all the pilots, go up to the room he shared with Heero, climb onto his bed, draw his knees to his chest and just sit. He would remain in that position for five minutes or so, then, apparently having composed himself, he would begin his commentary on anything and everything. But once, just once - before things had gone haywire between them - Heero had turned and faced Duo directly only a few seconds after he'd begun his fresh monologue. Duo's features had been shadowed and pale, and his eyes were impossibly wide. Heero had observed that Duo appeared to be getting his emotions under control and chattering while he did so. He was not expecting Heero's sudden, intensive study.  
Now, watching Duo out of the corner of his eye, he made the connection he should have made ages ago. The endless stream of words, the comments, the jokes, everything - it was all a comforting blanket that Duo could wrap around himself when he was too afraid to think, too afraid to be alone with the screams that haunted them all. Heero knew that each pilot had his own way of dealing with the searing guilt that accompanied the killing they were forced to do. Duo was an enigma, Heero realized, studying the pilot beside him. His profile looked heartbreakingly young, his turned up nose scoffing at anything and everything serious, his slender form outlined in the harsh lights of the hallway. But Heero knew that deep inside Duo's eyes would be knowledge that no one his age should have. His eyes mirrored the innocence he had long since lost, they overflowed with the weary cynicism of a soldier. All at once Heero wanted to wrap Duo into his arms, hiding those eyes which reflected such pain, erasing all the memories and absolving the guilt the braided pilot felt. But at the same time he knew that Duo didn't want pity. He wanted to live his life the way that he chose, he wanted to make his own amends, find his own peace. A tiny bit of understanding swelled in Heero's mind. Perhaps that was the real reason Duo had rejected him so thoroughly. Duo wanted to do things for himself, and Heero couldn't blame him - they were all terrorists. There was a time and a place for the weakness that eventually brings a soldier to his knees. That time, that place was far off. They had a job to do, a war to fight, and there just wasn't time to be anything else but what they were. In a way Heero envied Quatre and Wufei, who had managed to find solace in each other despite the hurricane that raged around them. Duo, however, was different. Duo *belonged* to that hurricane, he thrived on the gale force winds. Someday, he would collapse the barriers he'd built, but for now, Duo lived to joke, to play, to create a friendship - but nothing more. There was only so much comfort he could find in the arms of another soldier, especially when the war he was fighting hung heavily over his head at all times. In light of the thoughts that cluttered his brain he hestitated, then stopped walking. Duo stopped instantly as well, even though he never even looked at Heero. The braided pilot turned to him, head cocked.  
"Duo - it is better to die on one's feet, than to live on one's knees," Heero murmured softly, quoting Camus's "The Rebel." Duo's eyes raked over Heero's face for a second, then his face burst into a brilliant smile. Heero could practically feel the heat of that genuine smile warming his arms.  
"Hai, a very astute observation. But I will not give up. We will win this war, and if we don't, then you are correct. It will be better to die," Duo proclaimed. Heero nodded and nearly stumbled on a rip in the carpet when Duo spoke up again.  
"Save the self-destruction for when the war is complete. I believe you have been following that philosophy all along, but it has been flawed. You are not living on your knees, Heero, because you have yet to live. None of us have truly lived yet - we have merely subsisted upon the battles thrown at us, the orders fed us. When the war is over, we will have to make ourselves into something else. You'll always be a soldier, Heero, but you can become so much more. And when this is finally over, you can find yourself. I urge you - no, I order you - to discover just *who* Heero Yuy is, as soon as we enter peacetime."  
"Peacetime?"  
"We will find peace. It is only a matter of time." Duo emphasized serenely. Heero pushed a lock of dark hair out of his eyes and simply absorbed the calm words, the serenity that seemed to emanate from Duo. At last they reached Quatre and Wufei's room and Duo lifted his hand, then paused, and closed his eyes - which gleamed with an unnatural brilliance. Moments afterward Quatre answered the door, shock decorating his face.  
"Duo - how did you *do* that?"  
"No, not important. We move out tonight, it is time for the assassination to take place."  
"But who?" Wufei inquired from behind the still stunned blonde.  
"Walker," Quatre found himself replying absently. Then his seafoam colored eyes widened and pinned Duo with an accusative look.  
"Can the theatrics, Duo. We don't want to draw attention and your aura is positively thrumming with energy and power. If it gets any stronger *anyone* will be able to perceive it."  
"Very well," Duo agreed. He turned his fanatical eyes onto Heero. "Are we ready?"  
"Let me do it," Quatre interjected. Heero faced the blonde, startled. Quatre was usually the least bloodthirsty of all of them, the one who made his apologies and his peace before the assassination. And he was volunteering? Quatre correctly interpreted Heero's confusion.  
"I saw what he did to her; I felt it. I have to put this right for her. Myself. Alone." Quatre explained. Wufei stepped forward, dropping a hand onto Quatre's shoulder, but the Arabian shook it off.  
"I know this doesn't please anyone, but I must. Now, Duo, Heero, and Trowa - you three capture him and bring him to the hangar. Wufei, you and I will be the ones to conduct the interrogation. We must attempt to get a confession out of him before we kill him. I want him to beg for his life after what he did to her." Quatre's eyes were cold, haunted with the same look that had flickered within him when he was on ZERO. Wufei backed up, even Heero withdrew a bit. Only Duo remained unaffected.  
"He's right. Let's get Trowa and let's get this bastard just where we want him."

~*~*~

The three pilots covered each other in dark paint to reduce their visibility. At this stage of the game it was crucial that no one see them or recognize them. Once that task was complete they snuck out of the dorm, dressed in their own clothes despite the threat of being caught by the headmaster. Trowa had pointed out calmly that by this point they would be leaving the school soon anyway, and he, for one, was not conducting a kidnapping in a skirt. Duo had agreed, laconically. Heero had just stared at them both, still stunned into submission by the strange way Duo was acting. He did rather hope that Duo's personality change was not permanent. He found it quite odd, actually. Trowa seemed unaffected by Duo's unusual behavior and continued to lay the groundwork of the kidnapping. Quatre, the strategist, should have been the one to create the plan, but instead, because Trowa and Duo had a clearer idea of the *inside* of the base, they were the ones that formulated the plan and discussed it with Heero.  
"We go in, here," Trowa pointed to an X on the diagram he was holding. Duo nodded, then directed one long, fake fingernail towards another X that he had drawn.  
"These are Walker's quarters."  
"You cannot know that, you were nowhere near it," Heero argued. Trowa agreed.  
"Duo - you never even passed this section of the base. And none of us even saw the barracks."  
"Just trust me. I'll go in and get him, I already know the layout," Duo told them firmly, head tilted to the side as if he was listening to some far-off music. Heero shrugged, adjusted the sagging strap of his tank top and rolled up the crudely drawn map.  
"Let's go, then, but Duo - be careful."  
"You're not invincible," Trowa added.  
"Use the call if you need assistance subduing him," Heero instructed. Duo narrowed his expressive eyes.  
"Hai. But I already knew all that," he muttered quietly. Trowa leaned forward and pushed Duo's bangs out of his eyes.  
"Don't." Duo breathed, the sharp word falling on only Trowa's ears. He jerked back, startled. Duo's eyes were glimmering dangerously.  
"Duo, how did you know that I--"  
"Quiet." Duo barked, his voice suddenly extremely hard. For a ceaseless second Heero believed that he could see Duo as a rough, no-nonsense commander, which was certainly ridiculous. After all, he was normally too playful to follow through with any kind of discipline. Normally. Heero drew in a breath and hoped that Duo was not permanently changed or damaged by the strange psychic powers that had him in their grip. Duo turned and focused flat, cold eyes on Heero.  
"Does it matter? Then you will have another excuse. Enough. We go." Duo whirled in sharp corners and began walking stiffly ahead of them. Trowa and Heero traded confused glances, suddenly allies in the wake of Duo's increasingly peculiar behavior. They followed him through the underbrush and paused just in front of the base. He never stopped moving, not even to check on them. Instead he strode purposefully towards the barracks, never faltering. He did, indeed, know exactly where to go.

~*~*~

Duo didn't even try to understand the cold fingers that had wrapped around his heart and squeezed. He knew it wasn't normal, and he knew his comrades were concerned, but he had too much to do to think about it. He would ponder it later. For now he had a job. Despite the strange impressions that kept drifting into his mind like will-o'-the-wisps he moved with singular purpose. Every time he tried to track the feeling to its source it vanished like mist under the newly risen sun. Finally he shrugged his shoulders metaphorically and ceased questioning them. They had all been unerringly correct thus far and he had no reason not to trust the soothing whisper that blew through his mind like a cool breeze. He had glimpsed some of Heero's thoughts but Heero was more difficult to read than any of the others and he had stopped trying to seek the emotions beneath Heero's exterior. He would find those out later, he knew. As he walked towards the quarters he knew without a doubt belonged to Walker he was suddenly assailed by an errant vision. He bent over, clutching his seething abdomen, and saw Walker, vividly, pouring himself a drink. A high-tech weapon rested on his bed, primed and ready. Then he looked up and smiled. At Duo. Duo recoiled and fell onto his behind, stunned. How had Walker known he was there? But he recovered quickly and unholstered the tranq gun he had snuck into his clothes when no one was looking. He had known, he realized. He had been prepared for this eventuality. He crept forth several more steps until he could aim the gun through the open window. He smiled. He fired. Walker made not a single noise before he fell into a graceless heap on the floor of his chamber. Duo grinned and tossed the tranq gun over his shoulder. He was going to need it again, so he didn't bother to flick the safety. He jogged over the springy grass, reached the window, and poised the gun on the sill. He shot Walker again because he could tell the Lt. was beginning to rouse himself. He dropped back under and Duo left the gun on the grass, squirming through the open window. He knew it was going to be substantially more difficult to get Walker *out* the same window, as the Lt. was much larger and wider shouldered than Duo, but he grinned ferally. He shoved Walker through the window, breaking some of the glass and shearing some of the wood off of the frame. Walker collapsed onto the ground with a dull thump and Duo followed his descent through, landing softly on his feet like a cat. Thus far they had made quite a bit of noise and so Duo made his special call only once. He would not be able to carry Walker any distance - he could lift him for several minutes but not long enough to get back to his fellow pilots. Trowa and Heero managed to catch up to him in a matter of minutes and between the three of them they lifted the unconscious Walker and began to carry him away. They left the barracks behind not a moment too soon. As they departed they could hear someone banging on the Lt.'s door and they sped up their progress as much as they dared. Duo knew that someone was going to raise an alarm very soon and he gestured quickly to his partner that they had to find a place to hide themselves for several minutes. Heero nodded his understanding and they ducked under the nearest cover of thick trees. Once they had dropped Walker onto the ground Heero slammed his fist into his jaw.   
"I want to make certain he doesn't come to while we're hiding," Heero defended himself. He cursed himself inwardly. He was acting like a weak fool just because Duo was so different. Duo's inner strength had multiplied greatly after his psychic powers had surfaced, and Heero found himself trying not to enrage the slender pilot who called himself Shinigami. He groaned to himself as he realized that not only was he reacting infavorably but he was attacking himself - and sounding like a cheap Wufei imitation as he did so. Seconds after he made that observation bright lights began to whip through the forest, canvassing the dense trees. Duo suddenly jumped up, yanking on Heero's arm with such unexpected strength that Heero thought Duo might dislocate his shoulder.  
"Go, now! Distract them - you can outrun their searchlights and their soldiers. They will chase you and Trowa and I will meet you at the hangar." Duo hissed. Heero didn't even bother to look back or consider arguing. Duo was something entirely different than what he was used to and so he closed his mouth. He began running, hard, and he felt the lights warm his back as they caught and latched onto the movement. He took off even faster, making it difficult to keep the lights trained on him. He heard the soldiers following and he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked and primed. He ducked, rolled, and came up still running hard. His breath huffed out in spurts and he knew they would tire before he would. His stamina had been built up to nearly inhuman levels in his training and he could outrun anyone - except Duo, because Duo had ceaseless energy, it seemed sometimes. He ran faster, yellow sneakers landing with heavy thumps against the grass and the chase began in earnest. He heard them loose dogs and he was thankful that he could even outrun most dogs. The dogs barked and snarled and he dropped onto the grass again, just long enough that they lost him, and then he sprang up and resumed his flight. He hoped that he would manage to evade the dogs long enough to get out of range of the spotlights. His lungs began to burn slightly and he sped up. He was going to tire, and very soon. He was better at running distances when he wasn't pouring on the speed.

~*~*~

Trowa and Duo dragged the heavy unconscious body of Lt. Walker into the well-concealed hangar and then both sat down on the concrete. The adrenaline rush was beginning to fade. Duo raised his head and smiled, a goofy, lighthearted expression that dispelled the gloom that had been hovering around him since the beginning of their venture.  
"Duo, are you alright?" Trowa inquired, concerned.  
"Of course. But I hope Heero escapes - I didn't want to use a decoy but I knew we were going to need one."  
"They wouldn't have given up?"  
"No, no..." Duo shook his head, "they would have, tomorrow morning, when they captured us. I saw it in a flash and figured we better change our plans."  
"I suppose they would have found us eventually," Trowa contemplated, leaning back against the cement wall, his hands crossed behind his head.  
"I'm sorry about earlier. But I cannot kiss you anymore, not in front of Heero. He is not going to give up on us."  
"But you have?"  
"No," Duo wagged his finger good naturedly at Trowa, "but there is no us for quite some time yet."  
"How do you know?"  
"Hunch?" Duo offered, rippling his shoulders. Then he went to his knees, crawled over to Trowa, and initiated a steamy kiss. They separated and Duo pointed to the unconscious OZ spy.  
"We need to get him tied up, and then someone needs to get Wu and Kat."  
"Let's both tie him and then I'll get those two. You can wait for Heero." Trowa suggested, and then they worked together quickly, securing the bonds around Walker and ensuring that he couldn't see the Gundams from his position. Then Trowa leapt gracefully to his feet and left. Just after his departure the door crashed open and Heero barreled in, breathing heavily and with sweat soaking him. His hair was glued to his head from the sticky sweat and he was overheating even in his tank top. Duo smiled and motioned towards his watch. Heero looked down, saw the time, and caught his lip in his teeth.

Fifty-two minutes, precisely. 00:52:00, his watch read.

Duo felt a jolt of lust surge through his body. Heero was adorable with his bottom lip between his teeth like that. It gave him not only a human air, but also the innocent aura of a child. Duo sprang to his delicate feet and dashed over to Heero's side. He threw his arms around the stoic pilot, nuzzling his face in Heero's sweaty clothes.  
"Duo, what--?"  
"I'm glad you're all right."  
"You're acting..."  
"Normal? Irritating as usual? Am I still exascerbating the situation?" he grinned gleefully. Heero shoved at the clinging Deathscythe pilot, pushing him off his body.  
"Whatever. Desist, Duo."  
"Aww," Duo pouted like his usual self, then his face brightened again. "I was right. Down to the second - cause I didn't predict any seconds."  
"Hai. However, you should forget about this - ability - because it changes you. It's dangerous."  
"Sure, Hee-chan," Duo bubbled, brushing the cautionary words away. The odd melancholy that had held him in thrall had finally lifted. He bounced over to the unconscious Lt. and sent a kick jarringly into his ribs. "Take that, you fucking scum," Duo swore with loathing. He straightened up, threw a grimace in the direction of his one-time lover, and stalked out of the room. Heero followed a distance behind, watching Duo walk, and mentally shutting all of the gates, throwing the latch, and raising the drawbridge in his brain. He refused to think about what could have been, or what might be, any longer. Duo had proven time and time again that whatever slight flash had been between them had departed and wasn't coming back.

~*~ 

Wufei patrolled the room with a stiff, dedicated walk while Quatre lounged against wall, arms folded over his slim chest, eyes narrowed as they focused on the unconscious Lieutenant. For all intents and purposes he looked harmless, bright green-blue eyes, soft highlighted gold hair, but in reality he was one of the most deadly of the five.

And he was severely pissed off.

Wufei knew this, and was keeping his pacing carefully separate from the corner where Quatre seethed in silence. He knew his lover wouldn't appreciate interruption from anyone at that time. Finally, after several silent minutes, Quatre turned his large eyes to Wufei's continually moving figure.   
"Well, what do you say we split up and surround him? Verbally of course. He won't know what's going on, particularly if we contradict each other. I'm hoping that if I argue facts with you - false facts - he will jump in unwittingly and provide the truth. And in doing so expose himself." Quatre dropped his arms to his side, clenching his slender, white fingers together. Under his breath he ground out between his teeth, "I'd like to wrap my fingers around his neck and squeeze. Either that or climb into ZERO and pulverize him with one step."  
"I know. I want to clean my katana with his blood, but we cannot. We have to be just. He may as yet be innocent."  
"Innocent until proven guilty - but that was thrown out by OZ when they took over. That proviso no longer applies." Quatre wrinkled the corners of his eyes. Wufei suppressed a shudder at Quatre's demented, furious expression. He had never seen 04 look so angry, but then, none of them had ever seen anything quite like the crime that they faced now. Wufei was certain the group of pilots would have trouble prosecuting the OZ spy, but he was well-aware of their duty to shoot him in the common assassination position. As he methodically sorted through his thoughts, a groan barely registered. Quatre stiffened, his entire body going as tight as a stretched-out elastic. Wufei tossed his gaze onto the prone, trussed up Lieutenant.  
"I knew you'd come after me eventually. But once I have the coordinates of the location of the gundams, I can easily pass them onto the rest of my faction. You have made a grave error by capturing me. What am I, a political prisoner? After all, Treize Khushrenada and I are very clo--"  
"NO!" Wufei spat. His voice was quiet, tightly-controlled, but the force of the word stopped Walker in the middle of a word. His eyes widened, and for the first time a glimmer of fear appeared there. The Lt. quenched it immediately, but both 04 and 05 had already seen it and made similar note of it.  
"Where were you three nights ago?" Quatre intoned softly, his voice deceptively kind, in keeping with his angelic golden appearance. The Lt. squirmed slightly, rubbing his wrists together, jerking them apart, testing the strength of his bonds. Wufei's foot crashed down on top of his hands, pinning them beneath the soft-soled shoe. Walker winced in pain, but quickly masked it, his face turning impassive. He still had no idea what he was facing, what he had gotten himself into.  
"Don't bother trying to free your limbs. I will just have to instruct my partner to shoot the middle of each palm - then you won't be able to concentrate on escaping. All of your focus will be on the bleeding, red-sharp blinding pain," Wufei calmly informed the recalcitrant prisoner.  
"Answer the question."  
"I was on temporary leave. Treize Khushrenada will vouch for me. I was out visiting a girl - in fact, my girlfriend. Unfortunately she is out of tow-"  
"Enough!" Wufei snapped, his voice like the crack of a ruler against knuckles. Oddly enough, it conveyed all of that without even raising in volume. Lowering his voice, he continued, "You do have the absurd tendency to ramble, don't you? Is that out of fear, or are you naturally that obnoxious and irritating? Do you realize what a dangerous trait that is? Hm, I wonder what Mr. Big-shot Khushrenada thinks of that..." he trailed off, his manner strictly calculated, although the prisoner didn't know that. Quatre took the infinitesmal cue and stepped forward, so that even his slight frame towered over the prisoner, locking him into shadow. He waved a finger in front of the man on the floor, and smiled, his lips pulling away from his teeth in a caricature of what was generally his sweetest expression.  
"Very well. So in other words, you have no alibi. Could it be due to the fact that your 'girlfriend' was in your presence under duress?" His voice was smooth and thick, like molasses, catching the prisoner in its sticky flow. The Ozzie looked up at him, directly into Quatre's eyes, which were of the color and clarity of the ocean under ice. Inadvertantly the mad shivered, his roped hands and feet clicking together.  
"She desired me. She was enjoying my presence. She--"  
"Kuso! Do you ever SHUT UP?!" Wufei's velvet-over-steel voice finally raised on the last two words. Faced with the full strength of Wufei's vocal cords, the man quivered and nearly cowered. But he wasn't ready to crack quite yet.  
"I told you, she is out-of-town."  
"Ah, yes. When all else fails, invent an excuse for why your alibi is unavailable." Quatre smiled gently at him. "I understand. Further, I believe you." Wufei turned convincingly incredulous dark eyes onto his partner.  
"Are you out of your mind? He's obviously lying." Wufei whipped around, eyes narrowed with deadly purpose as he observed his secured prisoner.  
"Isn't it true that your so-called girlfriend was a ten-year-old girl that you first raped extensively, secondly murdered, and then brutally disfigured her body?" Wufei's voice went up another notch. The fury was clearly audible and barely restrained. His mouth was twisted into a grimace, the disgust in his eyes hardly veiled. Walker tried to scoot backwards on his uniformed posterior but ultimately failed.  
"No, no that isn't correct at all. That is entirely false," the Lt. protested.  
"I agree," Quatre reassured the man, carefully keeping his eyes averted from his partner. "Rather, I thought the girl was sixteen. Nonetheless, it's still rape if she wasn't interested. Was she?" Quatre inquired gently, almost tenderly.  
"Of course," Walker replied confidently. He relaxed a bit - the blonde wasn't that intimidating after all. In fact, he was almost - kind. It made him appear smaller, lighter, less dangerous. Quatre kept his relief and elation strongly in check. It was working - Walker was falling for it.  
"Perhaps I miscalculated," Wufei conceded. "Yet, I still believe that she was no older than eleven. Imagine - raping a child! How could you have touched a girl that young? I cannot comprehend the sort of evil that perpetrates--"  
"Kuso!" Walker ejaculated, unconsciously mimicking Wufei, "Fine! She was thirteen, all right? But I didn't fucking rape her--"  
"How could a thirteen-year-old be willing?" Quatre interjected in a low, breathy voice. He was growing ever quieter, which Walker easily misconstrued, which was also Quatre's intent. As quickly as they had chosen sides, they switched off. Wufei dropped his volume. He smiled quirkily.  
"But perhaps she *did* want it. After all, thirteen-year-olds can be horny, raunchy little things, can't they?" he winked conspiratorily at the prisoner. Walker was confused, exhausted, and injured. He was rapidly losing access to the finer faculties of his brain. He shrugged. Quatre's smile fell from his face as abruptly as a stone chips off of a cliff. He walked forward, a loud crunch sounding from beneath his boot as Walker's hand became a sudden mass of shattered bone splinters. Walker keened, trying to jerk away, yet unable to move. Quatre ground his heel against the already-abused hand, rubbing broken pieces of bone against one another.  
"Did you rape May Harper?" Quatre barked, his voice suddenly loud and abrasive, all softer qualities completely gone. Walker hesitated and Quatre dug his boot further into the prisoner's hand. The Lt. screamed, a high wail, and finally Quatre raised his foot. After enough of the pain had abated, he caught his breath and replied, "Yes. I did. But I didn't kill her." Quatre's heel descended again and Walker recoiled, shrinking back.  
"All right! I killed her. But I swear I didn't do anything after that! Her body disappeared without my knowledge." Quatre paused, considering. Time for a new tactic - the most important one, anyway.  
"Did you steal the blueprints to Tallgeese II?" Quatre fired forth.  
"Did you plot against Treize Khushrenada?" Wufei followed.  
"Did you have plans to assassinate him?" Quatre finished. Walker blinked. And then, with a gasp, he passed out, head cracking sharply against the concrete floor, all of his cockiness vanished. Quatre cocked his head towards his lover, one delicate eyebrow quirked upwards.  
"Shall we wait for him to regain consciousness - perhaps for the final time - or simply force him to wake?" Quatre's eyes were cold, and Wufei drew back against the wall. He would not want to cross Quatre as an opponent. Quatre followed Wufei's every movement and then answered himself.  
"I propose that we force him awake. It stands to a certain amount of reason that he will be initially confused. We can take advantage of his disorientation to get the answers we need."  
"You're the strategist," Wufei deferred to the blonde. 05 bestowed a tiny smile upon his lover, then steeled his body and soul yet again. The interrogation was not yet complete. Quatre didn't particularly care for using excessive force and torture in a questioning - usually. But for Walker he would make an exception. Carefully he made sure all traces of emotion disappeared. The Lt. wouldn't know who - or rather *what* - he was facing when he opened his eyes. Quatre reviewed the facts in his mind, mentally preparing his next line of questioning. Then his boot heel came down on Walker's other hand, crumbling the bones within that one as well. Walker came awake, the pain in his opposite hand jolting him upwards into consciousness. His first impression was of the impassive, eerily calm blonde Gundam pilot standing over him. Quatre had his legs planted so that the prisoner's legs were between them. Walker again tried to slide backwards, but Quatre's legs closed against the Lt.'s, squeezing almost painfully. Wufei began, as he had done originally.  
"What happened to May Harper's body after you had finished with her?" Wufei persisted. The bewildered, still only half-conscious prisoner shook his head a little, attempting to clear it.  
"I don't know. I didn't kill her, I swear I didn't. She was alive and kicking when I left her in the grass, and she was trying to scream."  
"But she was unable to do so?" At Walker's nod, Wufei continued. "Why was that?"  
"Someone had punched her in the throat, tried to strangle her."  
"Naturally - and would it be a great leap of logic to presume that person was you?"  
"It was not! I found her naked in my chamber - she'd been planted, I think. She may have been a spy, perhaps it was the girl who was trying to steal the plans for Tal--"  
"Kisama! Please stick only to the questions asked and do not draw our conclusions for us. That thirteen-year-old girl was fairly innocent, of this I am confident."  
"She threw herself at me! She couldn't speak but she--"  
"Enough!" Quatre thundered. "Every single time a girl is raped, her attacker blames the entire act on the female. As if that weren't a enough of a wild story, you expect us to believe that she was already half-strangled? First of all, why would you want a girl who couldn't speak? Are you that desperate? Well, I suppose you probably are," Quatre mused, then continued, "Secondly, as a Lt. in Treize Khushrenada's army, shouldn't you have reported the abuse, rather than take advantage of the girl?"  
"It was my night off!"  
"Do you take time off from your morality as well? From your conscience? From the law?" Quatre threw out, barraging the befuddled man with inquiries.  
"No, no of course not - but she was naked, as I said, and so cute I just couldn't help myself. I knew she couldn't scream, so--"  
"Dusgusting." Quatre interrupted softly. "Not only that, but parasitic. Feeding upon the weakness of others. When you look at yourself in the mirror, do you cower at the repulsive picture you present?"  
"That is irrelevant," Wufei interjected quietly.  
"Yes, of course. I apologize," Quatre directed at Wufei. Wufei smiled inwardly. He knew that Quatre's tactic was to demoralize the man, and to hack at his self-esteem until Walker was prepared to tell the truth.  
"What did you do after you raped her?" Quatre asked.  
"I went back to my cabin in the barracks - the same one where you so rudely attacked and captured me."  
"Not half as rudely as you raped and killed May Harper." Quatre observed.  
"I didn't kill her! It was a ruse, a false confession."  
"Why would you do such a thing as to falsely confess?" Quatre queried, voice dangerously low and deadly.  
"Because I wanted to preserve what was left of my hand!" Walker suddenly shouted, hoping to stun their eardrums for a second. He realized almost instantly that he had failed as his hand throbbed with fresh searing pain.  
"No, you did not. You were beyond that point. You freely admitted your guilt. Why would you abruptly change your mind? Who else, after all, was around to have killed her?"  
Walker smiled through the haze of pain.  
"One of your own. I believe it was - 02 to be exact." He grinned at them, his trump card laid out on the table. Quatre paused for a second, then turned to Wufei.  
"Call Maxwell in here. We will ask him some questions as well." Quatre ordered. Wufei nodded dutifully and left the room. When he returned Duo was following close behind, looking confused. His brilliantly unusual eyes settled upon the prisoner, and he raised an eyebrow in question. Quatre ignored the newcomer and directed his entire attention towards the Ozzie.  
"You may proceed. Tell us what you know, and you may ask him a maximum of three questions. When you are through, we will question him as well. Let it be known now that we are not unjust, even towards monsters. We do not generally use torture as an acceptable method of questioning, and unlike OZ, we have remembered how to be human." I hope, Quatre added silently, unable to quash the impression that they were, as terrorists, in fact no better than OZ. Walker tilted his head and observed the new person in the room. 02 fidgeted, appearing nervous, and perhaps even guilty. Walker nodded inwardly and began.  
"When I was ra - enjoying - May Harper, a shadow fell upon me, as though something had blotted it out the moon. I kept my ears open and all of my senses were alert. I smelled ginger and rainwater, and his long braid threw a distinctive shadow. When I smelled him again, as he was attacking me, I knew for certain it was him. And I know he killed her - because, you see, I did not. I left her there, tied up in the brush, and snuck into the foliage. It was there that I observed 02 using his supposedly harmless braid as a weapon. He strangled her in front of my eyes. I am also convinced that he was the perpetrator of the original - thwarted - strangling." Walker paused for effect. Duo had paled, unaware that he had been visible that night - especially when he was usually so good at disappearing. Walker was gratified and continued, asking his questions despite the excruciating pain in his hands.  
"Where were *you*, 02, three nights ago?"  
"It was as you said. I stumbled upon the scene and threw my shadow. But I didn't kill her."  
"Have you used your braid as weapon in the past?"  
"Yes."  
"Did you kill May Harper to keep her from exposing you as the spy?"  
"No." Duo answered calmly, his voice taciturn. He turned so that he was facing Quatre and his entire demeanor changed. Quatre continued the line of questioning.  
"Have you ever raped a female?"  
"Yes."  
"Why did you do so?"  
"She was an OZ soldier, I was little more than a child. I had yet to learn more effective ways of demoralization, and I am genuinely remorseful that I had stooped to such low levels, even in my past."  
"You are certain this was rape?"  
"Yes. She struggled, I pinned her down with my hands, tied her up, and forcefully penetrated her. She lay completely still once she was restrained."  
"How have you used your braid as a weapon?"  
"I have used it to strangle. I have killed several people in this manner."  
"Who did you kill?"  
"I killed the woman I raped, once she had given up her information. I was eleven at the time. I killed her to spare her the pain and shame of the previous rape. She may have been a soldier, but I considered the act merciful at the time."  
"You do not consider it merciful now?"  
"It is relative. I do consider it to be so, after the rape. But I consider the rape to have been unnecessary, therefore so was the murder."  
"Who else did you kill?"  
"Rival gang members. Three to be exact, all of them slum-scum." Duo took a deep breath. Telling the truth was something he made a practice of doing. He knew that when Wufei had come to retrieve him that Quatre would ask difficult questions. He also knew that he would be expected to lie at points to appear more sensational. It was a delicate thing, laying this trap one gossamer thread at a time.  
Walker was astounded. Pilot 02 had freely admitted to may sorts of devious and despicable actions, yet he did so in a detached, clinical manner. He was building a case against himself as to why he may have raped and strangled May Harper - in essence he was pounding the nails into his own framing. Walker choked on a gurgle of blood, unsure of why the internal bleeding, and watched 02 even more closely. Quatre continued the barrage of probing questions.  
"Did you rape May Harper?"  
"No."  
"Did you kill her?"  
"Yes." Duo replied, and the room fell silent. Quatre and Wufei gave convincing stares of surprise, and Duo stood completely still. The silence stretched like the same elastic in Quatre's stiff body. Finally, Walker could not take the tension any longer.  
"He's lying! Why would he admit such a thing?" He turned frantic, wild eyes on pilot 02. "Why would you confess? I've been trying to frame you - you're digging the hole for your own coffin! Why?!"  
The others ignored his outburst. Quatre asked yet another question, his voice very low indeed.  
"Why did you kill her?"  
"She'd been raped. I wanted to be merciful. But I did not do so because she might expose me."  
"Were you the spy? We know how talented your hacking capabilities are."  
"Yes."  
"Did you have plans to assassinate Treize?"  
"Yes." Duo answered coldly. The Lt.'s mouth fell open. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Before he knew what he was saying he had simply exploded.  
"What the hell? Damn you for taking credit for my ingenious plan! It was the most fucking clever thing. No one could have caught on. I was Treize's closest confidante. And you - you FRAUD - you're taking all of the credit!" He drew in his troubled breath, blood still rattling in his lungs. The three pilots stepped forward and joined hands. Quatre spoke.  
"It was a trap, and you fell into our web quite nicely. Never trust a poisonous spider - or a lethal Gundam pilot, especially an angelic-looking strategist. You have given us sufficient proof that you are guilty. You did not know of our plan, therefore it is unlikely you were confessing falsely again. You are hereby sentenced to death for: treachery, traitorous behavior, plotting against your commander, and planned assassination. Furthermore, you are found guilty on the counts of the rape, murder, and dismemberment of May Harper. Your sentence will be carried out by a single shot to the brain, and I am your executioner. Happy trails to Hell." Quatre smiled, an evil curvature of his full lips.   
"I didn't dismember her - the body was gone when I got back to the site--" Walker mumbled through the blood rapidly filling his lungs. Duo and Wufei exited the room, and Quatre pulled his gun. Positioning the prisoner so that he was on his knees, with his hands behind his back, a shot rang out. Walker's head slumped forward, shattering against the concrete. Blood poured from the single gunshot wound in the back of his head. But before Duo and Wufei could re-enter, another shot broke the stillness. And another. And yet another - and five more after that. When the safehouse was finally silent, the air pregnant with death, Wufei entered the room. He found Quatre leaning over the dead Lt., his body riddled with bullets. Quatre was praying for him - tears dancing in the corners of his eyes. Wufei carefully wrapped his arms around his lover, drawing Quatre's head inwards against his chest. Standing very cautiously, he led the severely disturbed, angry pilot from the hangar, where the Lt.'s body lay for many hours afterwards.

~*~

Trowa and Duo cleaned up the blood and disposed of the body while Heero and Wufei collaborated on the report. They were glad the entire grisly mission was at last complete. The pilots breathed a collective sigh of relief, just knowing that a man like Walker -- who could mangle a young girl as badly as he did -- was dead. What none of them realized was that Walker had left them with a final truth.

~end chapter 18~


	20. Remembering the Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo writes in his journal. I think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *notes*  
> /italics/  
> crossdressing  
> violence  
> and apparently there is an offensive word, but I don't remember what it was? Sorry in advance, I guess. ha.

There were still flakes of dried blood collected under his fingernails, Duo mused, as he slowly washed his face. Time had crawled slowly, and the missions had grown sparser and sparser until at last Duo - and the others - had received respective notices. Duo's read:

*D. Mission Complete. All that's left is to send the gundams into the sun. They are unnecessary in a time of peace.*

As am I, Duo thought bitterly. You can train the child to be a soldier, but once you've done so, you can't remove the lethality from what you have created. The slightest ghost of a memory nibbled at his consciousness, and he sighed.  
"If I feel useless, I wonder how Heero feels. I hope he remembers my advice, to learn to be a human again. I am not at all certain that I remember my own plans." Duo murmured quietly into the mirror. His reflection mouthed empty words back at him, and he turned away from it. The safehouse was silent, dead. All of the other pilots had already dispersed. Duo wasn't sure why he had remained as long as he had. It had been three weeks since they'd all gone - Quatre had returned home, Trowa had gone to find the circus, Wufei had merely departed without a word, and Heero...Heero. Duo did not know where Heero had gone, and he was still trying to convince himself that he didn't care. He glanced down at his fingernails, they had grown and become ragged. The blood he fancied there was, in fact, nonexistent. He turned his hands over, examined the hands that had been responsible for so many deaths. They were mostly smooth, slightly roughened by Deathscythe's controls, and small.  
"Such small hands." he slid them in and out of his vision. "Who could have believed that such small hands would have caused the obliteration of so many." His voice, delicate and sadly tinted, rang out in the empty house, despite how softly he'd spoken. He took the stairs slowly, stepping on each step with both feet before advancing to the next. When he reached his room - the one that had been both his and Trowa's - he scowled at his messily unmade bed. He pulled the sheets off of it, tossing them carelessly to the floor. He nearly missed the tiny folded square that tumbled out of the dirty pile of sheets. As he shoved his minimal amount of possessions into his duffel, he wrinkled his nose.  
"It figures - they leave me to do the cleanup," he grumbled, as he realized that Trowa's bed was unmade as well. He was leaning down to pick up the tiny scrap of paper when a voice halted him.  
"You don't have to read it."  
"Heero!" Duo straightened up and stared deeply in the ice-blue eyes that met his and held them steadily.  
"You can read it later. I was sleeping - there," Heero pointed to Trowa's bed, "hoping that if I slept where *he* slept, I would understand. But I don't. Anyway, I wanted to say goodbye - in person."  
"Heero - we said goodbye a long time ago."  
"I know. But the Gundams are gone. We have no one, you and I - remember that. No one could understand. *He*-- " again the disdainful emphasis, "he had the mercenaries. Who did you have?"  
"I ha-- it doesn't matter. But you and I are not alike." Duo replied in an injured tone.  
"Goodbye, Duo." Heero said with soft finality. He whirled and clicked the heels of his shoes on the stairs. Duo watched, an infinite sadness spreading throughout his chest. Heero had been wearing shiny, buttoned boots, and an unrelieved black ensemble. Like me, Duo thought with regret. He dresses like me - to say goodbye. He didn't even ask if I would change my mind.  
"But I wouldn't, anyway!" Duo shouted to the rafters of the looming house. He bent again, listening to a car pull out of the driveway, and lifted the missive. He unfolded the many squares and at last he read:  
*Duo-  
I've accepted a position as Miss Relena's personal bodyguard. I don't expect to see you again - nor do I particularly want to. But I wouldn't turn you away.  
~H.*  
For the first time in years a tear escaped his dry eyes and slipped down his cheek. It was the only one.

~*~

The packed duffel was slung over his slim, muscular shoulder as he sauntered into the office of the new school. The woman behind the desk was thin, her face drawn in a long oval, her hair tightly clasped behind her head. Over sharp-rimmed glasses she asked, in a quarrelous tone,  
"May I help you?"  
"Yes - my name is Duo Maxwell and I enrolled here last week. I have my things and I'm ready to move in," Duo announced cheerfully, hiding his sorrow deep within him, just as he had always done. The woman examined him critically.  
"We have very strict regulations at this school. Your hair is not regu--"  
"The hair stays." Duo said very firmly, and a bit dangerously. "It's a promise to my mother - she died," he continued, his natural charm surfacing and markedly enhanced. The severe woman melted only a minute bit, but she nodded in aquiescence.  
"Very well. But that is all. If any of the rules are broken more than once you are placed on disciplinary probation. Also," she peered snootily over her glasses, "you are expected to keep a 3.8 GPA at all times. You will be removed from the school if it drops below 3.7." She glared, but Duo stared back, unaffected. After being on the receiving end of more of Heero's glares than he could count, he was not intimidated. At last she waved him through. He walked through the dim halls, searching for the dorm where he would sleep. Once he found it, he stepped over the threshold and waited for the ensuing din as the students adjusted to his presence. Nothing happened. A bit disappointed, he moved over to the only empty bunk and tossed his bag on top of it. Finally, a girl with dim eyes and drab hair came up to him, shoving a leather-bound book into his hands.  
"We're expected to write in this every night. We all have one. No one reads them, but it's in lieu of writing letters to family - which is strictly forbidden."

 

~*~

Sara stared dully at the new boy. She catalogued his long dark hair and too-bright, sparkling eyes and wrinkled her nose. Their school had no place for boys like him. They were the type who smiled and winked, and expected the girls to pretty themselves up for them. The glint in their eyes rarely lasted longer than a week, and generally their under-developed muscles turned the girls' heads away in revulsion. She could tell at once that he was weak, no more than a child, and probably very spoiled as well. She remembered well the war, how it had torn her family to shreds - her father had been killed, and her mother had continued sleeping with the gardener as though nothing untoward had happened. All the girls and guys in her school who got along, and received the coveted grades, had learned quickly to lower their eyes and bemoan the loss of life, and the horror of the war that had roared and raged far above their heads and protected existences. Sara was unique in the fact that she had had an actual tie to the fighting - if only through her father. Her limp gray eyes drooped halfway closed. Surely this brand-new student, with his completely impractical hair and eyes of that brilliant unusual shade, had no knowledge or first-hand experience with the war that had taken her father's life as penance for her mother's sins. She smiled slinkily to herself. With just a toss of her burnished curls and the wink of one gray eye, he'd be falling at her feet. And then the cats would play with the delicious new mouse.

~*~

It was late and all the lights had been extinguished except for one. Duo opened the small blank book and after a moment began to record his thoughts.

Dear Journal:  
I wonder if it's true, that no one reads these? Well, it doesn't matter - I don't plan on anyone finding this once I've marked it with broken pieces of my soul - little shreds of it splattered on the clean page with this dripping ink. Ha, ha. I'm a poet - you could just tell ol' Principal-lady didn't think I could keep my GPA that high! Well, I've never been to a real school in the past, but so what. G trained me well-enough, and for once if I solve and algebra problem incorrectly it won't matter. No one will die - least of all me. I'm more intelligent than any of them wanted to know. I know they're my friends, but...  
anyway that's all besides the point. The main point is Heero, honestly. I cannot tell if he understood my motives. But a war is a heavy thing, the sort of thing that weighs on your soul, besmirches you no matter what role you play. I played the role of the Reaper and I did it well. Heero - I cried for you once, one tear, and that's all I'm going to spare you. I have things I need to do, a life I need to get in order, a mission to accomplish - all before I can think about love. I'm still repaying a debt to those I loved before. I bear the scars of war proudly - they are my medal. I'm not happy about what I've done, not pleased because I killed more or better. But I am satisfied, because it's over.

It's over.

~Duo.

 

Duo threw himself face first over his cot, just one of six people that shared the large institutionalized room with him. Thus far no one, not the girls, who were dull-faced and blank-eyed, or the boys, who were huge and yet empty, had given him the slightest attention - even out of curiousity. He was just 15 years and 7 months old, and he felt the bone-weary exhaustion most people didn't settle into until their old age. He barely acknowledged his lank, heavy thatch of hair as it tumbled over the side of the metal structure and began befriending the somewhat dusty linoleum. He huffed out a huge sigh. Glancing down at the half-filled page he decided to finish it up before he went to sleep. Shaking the pen a little, he raised it over the page, then lowered it and began the "scritch-scritch" that would quickly become his theme song.

Dear Journal:  
I've decided to write down my story in all of its gory and melodramatic detail. I think I shall change things, use language that's bright, wild and unconfined. I'm laughing...it feels like years since I've laughed, but I know it hasn't been that long.

I have stepped back, glanced at myself through this broken mirror, shuddered and turned away. If I cannot bear to look at the heart-shaped face that lies to my reflection - to myself - how can I follow anyone in love? I've wanted to become someone different, I've sought value. I have not found any of these things. The war turned in on itself, sabotaged its own purpose, and I see a definitive parallel to my own life. Perhaps in this time of peace I can find those things I desperately crave. A little education, a bit of training - I have such plans for myself. I don't think Heero will wait for me. But regardless, I must do these things before I can even seek him out again. I wish he could understand.

~Duo.

The book's covers met and kissed each other as he completed the entry. He imagined that he was fulfilling some great cosmic promise - and even though he knew it was not true, it held the nightmares at bay for at least one more night.

~*~

Duo threw the pen down onto the table with a clatter. He'd been attempting to write the simple, stupid essay for nearly three hours and forty minutes - and nothing that he wrote down sounded exactly right. He had already gone through seventeen sheets of paper and had scribbled out so many words that two pens had run out of ink. He had tried using his laptop, but instead of writing *anything*, he found himself staring dumbly at the word processing screen. Grinding his teeth in frustration, he felt the pain of his stress headache spear through his head, beginning just under his right ear and spreading heatedly down through his jaw. As he reached for the pen to try it again, it was lifted out of his grasp by the same girl who had originally shoved the journal at him. She raised it high above his head - she was standing over him - and laughed out loud. Her dull eyes were ringed in kohl and her lips tinted with strawberry cream.  
"It would appear that the studious, overtly dull boy is having some - issues, shall we say? You keep quiet, and you are always seen with yourself - and no one else. Could it be that someone is a--" whispered, "fag?" Louder, she continued, "Did you notice anyone at all? Or are you too high and mighty for the rest of us?"  
"Put it down." Duo ordered in a lethally low voice. She ignored him, still taunting.  
"What's your secret, little boy? You're naught more than a scrawny weakling, a nerd, the kid that hacks the principal's files on Friday and suspiciously gets the highest grade on Monday. You aren't smart, or clever, just stupid. We've been watching you, and we know you can't pull of those grades without the help of your hacking skills. So we," she motioned to several girls who had surrounded him, "have decided you will do without that laptop--" a girl snatched it off the table and threatened to dump it out the open window, "for one week. By then you should have failed out of this school."  
"You wouldn't dare," Duo threw back, baiting her. Sara! That was her name, he mused, as he watched her more carefully than she could comprehend. He'd been closely familiar with her type on many occasions and he observed quietly, taking note of the guys who ringed around the girls. It was now or never, he realized, and jumped up suddenly from his perch at the library table. In a heartbeat he was nothing more than a dark blur as his legs kicked out, knocking the laptop out of the girl's fingers without harming her or the computer. He lashed out again and Sara dropped the pen as it was literally wrenched from her gentle grasp by the momentum of his swinging foot. He came to a rest on top of the table, breathing lightly, still poised on the balls of his feet. He hadn't hurt a single person gathered, but he had shown them a fraction of his impressive fighting skills. Sara's eyes narrowed and she leaned down to retrieve the writing implement. Duo's fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist and he leaned in so close that only she could hear him. Covering her lips with his, he told her,  
"Don't *ever* mess with me, little girl. You will surely lose." To all those assembled he appeared to be kissing her lightly, and then he thrust his tongue into her mouth, kissing her so thoroughly she was breathless when he let go. She would think twice before labelling him as a "fag" again. He returned to his seat before the teacher could burst in, and he was writing harmlessly when she did so, stunned by the orderly group of students quietly studying.

~*~

That night he found a rat hidden in his bed, its throat cut. He didn't know who had killed it and planted it, although he had suspicions that there were at least two people involved. He didn't care, he disposed of it without fuss. That night as he was writing in his journal someone dumped a bucket of water over his head, when he jerked up to see who it was he came face-to-face with only darkness. The journal was soaked, but he dried it cautiously, with a dedication and patience that most people could only dream of. He put his sheets in the dryer, and as he waited for the cycle to complete he continued that day's entry.

Dear Journal:  
It would appear that the students here are not wholly pleased with me. The best I can fathom is that Sara, who appears to be the ringleader, is spiteful and egotistical. She seems to believe that I should have fallen - perhaps not so metaphorically - at her exquisite feet and kissed her doubtless perfectly shaped toes. I have seen - and for the record, killed - girls far prettier than she could ever hope to be. In retrospect I know it wasn't necessary to kill all of them...but I am speaking a bit figuratively here. I suspect many of the OZ soldiers I dispatched had young wives who were devastated by the death of their husbands.

This plagues me at night. When everything is completely quiet, and the lights are low, I can hear the screaming - like a dull roar. I don't think I've ever experienced true silence. My silences bleed sound, they fill up and overflow with small noises - even the slight whimper of a pilot as my scythe streamed through his mobile suit and slashed off his head.

Barely enough time to cry out.

It would also appear that Sara thinks she has a monopoly on war suffering. It's quite obvious that she finds me small, and has therefore labelled me insignificant - among other things. But she will not soon forget me. They are playing games, little pranks that are intended to be harmless - meant only to intimidate. I do not want to show them what I know of war. I do not want to kill any of these children to prove my point.

I am tired of killing.

I find it curious that even in my personal thoughts, I separate myself from them. I know these students are far removed from the war - they have been sheltered, they watched it through safety goggles (so to speak). It is entirely possible I am chronologically younger than they are. But I know so much more, and that makes me infinitely older.

They dumped a dead rat in my bed, probably to introduce me to the idea of death. Hello, Death, I'm Duo - oh, you already know me? Why of course you do - I'm Shinigami.

Don't play too rough with me, children. I can do things to you that you've never imagined. I can kill you a hundred different ways, and that is just with my bare hands. 

My sheets are nearly dry. As I watch these kids, these sheltered, spoiled, dull girls and boys, I realize something. Relena isn't any older than we are - she would fit into this school as if it was built for her. But perhaps, just perhaps, someday she will grow up - unlike these children, who will remain spoiled and shallow all their lives, and only because they don't wish to be anything else. I wonder how the other pilots are faring...

I kissed Sara today to prove I'm not a "fag." The craziest thing is, I've kissed and slept with both girls *and* guys before - but I don't see myself as a fag...I see myself as an equal opportunity lover. Yes, that was a joke. Jokes don't always translate well on paper. They soaked my journal, but I dried it. These thoughts are mine alone, and drenching my head will not cut them loose. My hair drips methodically as if in a predetermined pattern, slowly dampening the tile floor beneath me. They don't like how I look, either, but that's okay. I came here to learn and I will. I also came here for something else - something that I learned only this school can provide.

My GPA is 3.95, this infuriates them. But I'm not through yet. When I'm finished, every kid in this school is gonna hate me - and I don't damn well care. I've paid my dues in blood, I've earned the right to be here. I saved their world for them, dammit, I made it safe for them to study here. Someday every one of you will know my face and name like the back of your own hand. You will know who I am, what I did - and you will probably hate me for that as well. But you'll know - and that's what counts.

~Duo.

~*~

Duo clenched his teeth together for a moment, drawing in a long breath through his nose, and then sending it spinning out into the air through his mouth. Checking his watch he noted with some slight satisfaction that he had managed to make it last a full twenty-seven seconds. That was two seconds longer than his previous record. Exhaling from way down beneath his diaphragm was often difficult, but he kept practicing. He glanced at the clock hanging on the dirty whitewashed wall and felt alarm coil in his chest. He was expected at his lessons in ten minutes, which meant he'd been practicing for almost an hour. Smiling at his sweaty, disheveled appearance, he quickly dragged his brush through his loose, tangled hair, and applied some peach gloss to his full lips. After only a few weeks at the school he'd learned that the students seemed to have it in for him, and he delighted in foiling them at every turn. He always brushed his hair until it gleamed, and wore the gloss on his lips so that they had a permanent shine to them - it was a sexy and seductive little trick he'd learned in previous schools, whenever he wanted to attract more than just cursory attention from the opposite sex. Trowa had loved the effect -   
"Like you've been licking your lips all night, dreaming of that sexy goddess you're going to have warming your bed that evening. It's postively delicious and I think I get a hard-on every time I catch a glimpse of that slicked-lip look." Trowa had winked at him, his visible green eye sparkling like the ocean under the setting sun. Duo remembered the words almost every time he applied the gloss, along with the fact that Trowa had loved the strawberry and apple scents the best.

Grinning, he decided to throw the whole school for a loop. He had nearly finished his course of study and he was about ready to withdraw from the school anyhow. He was almost prepared for what he had been planning since G had recruited him. G had offered him a huge amount of credits, plus whatever he could procure from OZ, if he agreed to pilot the Gundam and fight in the war. He had great plans for the credits that had been delivered to his account. He nearly laughed aloud as he yanked out the drawer of his bureau, rummaging through it until he found the pretty yellow halter dress that had been purchased on that mission where they'd hidden out in the girls' school. Dropping it over his head, he adjusted the straps and then wriggled a strapless push-up bra on underneath the dress. Shaking his hair out, he put in two small clips, winked at his reflection, and then confidently strutted out of the room. He couldn't wait to see how long it took the other kids to notice he was *crossdressing* of all things. He snickered to himself because he knew by then that they expected him to be dull, disinterested, and completely clueless. The little tricks they'd played on him thus far had done quite a bit to convince him that the girls, especially, were more devious than they had originally appeared. But he was not the only one who had miscalculated, he thought to himself with smug satisfaction.

~*~

The voice lesson went about as well as he could have expected. The teacher, a tiny, whitehaired man who had long since gone almost entirely blind, never noticed the dress. But he did commend Duo on his superior grasp of the mechanics of singing - as well as the bell-tone voice to show off his knowledge. Duo had filed away the compliments from that time in the safehouse, so long ago. He had made a vow to Father Maxwell to follow his example, now he made a new vow to Sister Helen that he would find a way to commemorate her memory, and he had. She had always loved his singing voice, and in the past three months he had sung clearly and beautifully until the teacher had assured him he was ready to graduate.  
"Good enough to sing in God's choir, exceptionally talented - like an angel," the teacher had praised. Duo thought his comments were lavish and lush, and likely exaggerated, but he accepted that he had a modicum of talent - enough to share with others, at least. He had a few more things to accomplish at the school before he could graduate, but he didn't mind. He had finally begun to set things up - sending emails, making phone calls, getting everything in order.

By the time he went home, construction would nearly be completed.

~*~

That night he began to dream, and the dreams would follow him wherever he went for several months afterward. The journal, which had never been found by anyone else, became his constant companion - in lieu of his fellow pilots, his one-time confidantes.

Dear Journal:  
The lights have flashed and stabbed my eyes. The dreams come fast and furious, filled with images that I cannot bring myself to believe. In one, Relena stands, giving a speech, Heero positioned on her arm like a trophy - oddly enough, though, he looks content and she looks dedicated - she seems so *changed* from the irritating teenager she was the last time I saw her. But then, I last saw her around 9 months ago. Perhaps...

In another I see Caro, smiling lightly, her green eyes wide and her rich cinnamon-honey hair pulled back and braided, with curls framing her face. Her beauty is undeniable, and I feel my groin clench every time I see her in my dreams. But Trowa - my lovely, considerate, delicious lover and friend - Trowa is at her side, a smile lighting his normally calm lips, his green eye sparkling like the gold ring on her finger. And then my heart drops to my feet, saddened because I have lost both of them - to each other.

Quatre and Wufei are always together in every dream I have of them. Their beautiful contrasting haircolors mesh perfectly, as do their souls. Quat is strong enough to be respected by Wufei, and he has enough honor that Wufei does not feel threatened by the love that they share. It makes me jealous - I see them kiss in my daydreams and nightmares, I watch Wufei as he assists Quat with running his estate and Winner Enterprises. I suppose we all knew that Quat would eventually have to go home and take over, but with Wufei at his side? At times in the dreams rain falls all around them - they sit cuddled inside a bubble of falling crystals, and they are dry - but the implications are clear. Quat still feels guilty, still responsible, for May. May Harper - a name I hope never to have to utter again, especially around those two. I know Quat wanted to kill Walker - but it was a double-edged sword. He got his justice for what Walker had done, but he placed at eternal hold on his soul - at least as far as he's concerned. I hope that in time Wufei can prove to Quatre that he's all right, and that Quatre can show Wufei just how strong he really is.

I envy that pair - they found a perfect match in each other. They fit together like two pieces of the same puzzle.

Heero...Heero's an enigma, a mystery. I only catch glimpses of him, but always he's at Relena's side, always he's holding her - at times he kisses her, sometimes she whispers in his ear...but I cannot hear anything but the dim rush of water drowning out their words.

Anyway, tonight's the night - I'm leaving this school and going home to L2. I hope everything's in order when I get there...

~Duo.

~*~

Duo stepped off of the shuttle onto the filthy, unraked, unseeded ground. There had not been any grass - even artificial grass - on the shuttle's landing dock since the last time he'd been there. As he watched he saw an urchin dart from one end of the launch pad to the other, an apple clutched in his dusty, grungy hands. His heart sank as he glanced out over the remains of L2 - it was even worse off than it was when he'd left. He steeled himself and stood up straighter. This was, after all, what he'd come back to do - to change things, to try and make things a little cleaner, a little better. Most of his things he'd left behind on L1, all he'd brought with him were his Bible, his cross, a change of clothes and his now-worn journal. He took a deep breath, adjusted his small bag, and began walking.

Three hours later Duo had finally reached his destination. He inhaled the dust, coughed, and smiled. Everything was going according to plan - the Church had nearly been rebuilt, the rectory had been put back into order, and the notices had been sent out. In just a matter of time the children would come flooding in - instead of dumping them in the disease-ridden, overcrowded prisons, the police would bring them to him. He felt, for the first time in his life, purposeful - productive as opposed to destructive.

Dear Journal:  
As much as I loved detonating bombs, I am loving this even more. I have moved into the rectory and construction on the Church should be completed within the next month. By that point I should have several children waiting - I already have two little girls, twins, staying with me in the rectory - and I can hardly wait. I sing them to sleep every night, and they laugh, yawn and close their eyes in the way that only little children do. Their mother was killed recently in a shooting and they have just turned four-years-old. No one believes that I can do this, because despite my hacking abilities no-one believes that I am 23 years old. Which makes sense because I'm not. Amy and Allyson are so much fun to be around, I can't wait until the rest of the kids arrive. I've already hired a couple of assistants - I am going to be the director. I feel as though I have finally upheld my vow to Father Maxwell. I am rebuilding not only his Church - but his dream. By nights I am going to sing in the nightclub down the alley as a way of earning some extra credits. I wonder what Heero would think of all this. Would he think I'm nuts?

In all the entries I've recorded not once have I reflected on that last night of that vitally important investigation. I suppose I don't want to remember the interrogation, the way that Quatre and Wu looked at me...I was told to lie when necessary and I did so. I didn't kill May Harper, of course not. Nor did I have any plans to steal Tallgeese II or assassinate Treize (even if he is dead now, a casualty of war).

The thing is, I told the truth as much as possible. I didn't kill that female OZ soldier - but I *did* rape her. The list of my war crimes is as long as my life has been thus far, and only I can ever redeem myself - but can I? I'm not sure it's possible anymore. Has God turned his back on me by this point? I'm not sure. That female soldier, she was so grateful that I didn't kill her. In fact, she was so passionately indebted to me that she has practically dedicated her life to me - she fancies herself in love with me. Who loves their rapist? She's almost perpetually cheerful, more so than me, even, and she thinks she owes her life to me. Not only that but that she owes her freedom from OZ - to me. Me?!

But I didn't free her.

I enslaved her soul, took her sexuality captive, and yet she still fixated on me as her saviour...

That young female OZ soldier I raped?

It was Hilde.

~Duo.

 

Dear Journal:  
Oddly enough, looking back on that last entry I wonder about myself, and my sanity. Do I question my motives? Yes. Do I question my memory? Yes, even more so. But I'm afraid to let that pass as gospel truth - I had to do it, some might say...

To be more accurate, it was war. I don't like to think of myself as an evil bastard - not unlike those Ozzies. I watched Walker rape May Harper - and I was disgusted. Yet I am no better, correct? But I was little more than a child - it was early in the war, I had been recruited and set to fighting even before G had my gundam completely in order. Hilde withheld information that I needed, and the only way of coercion/persuasion I had been taught was torture. But I ask you - you, the unwitting, nonexistent reader of my most personal thoughts - does ignorance excuse the crime of my behavior?

I still curse myself for resorting to rape, for using the same dehumanizing behaviors that the men I'm fighting used, for forcing myself upon a woman not unlike the soldiers who killed Sister Helen did.

I have no defense. I am guilty, perhaps even guiltier because I have also killed hundreds, because I allowed Hilde to believe she loves me - she does everything she can for me, now that she has left Oz. I do not know how I could ever heal the damage I caused her - even though she claims that the beauty of my soul will always outshine my war crimes.

A war crime is still a crime, even if all /is/ fair in love and war.

But what is the enemy - but everything you hate in yourself?

~Duo.


	21. A Light Unto the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relena gets a sex scene, a character-transplant, and becomes a nicer person...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PORN. of the het variety  
> *journal writing* /italics/  
> original male character

Relena grinned, then drew her face into a mock-pout. She wiped an imaginary tear from her eye, then broke into a grin again. It was her sixteenth birthday, and her brother, Zechs (or Milliardo, which was what he insisted she call him), had just unveiled her surprise birthday present. He was currently lounging against the fender of a creamy, off-white stretch limousine. Relena wasn't really upset about the loss of her old pink one, after all, it was the one she'd been given by her--real--father, meant to be used when she was still a child. Now, at sixteen, she was officially considered a woman--by all the people who counted, anyway. She clapped her pretty pale hands together, honey-hair drifting in the slight breeze that was blowing. Her hair had been artfully arranged in a loose bun on the top of her head, with many curling tendrils brushing her mostly-bare shoulders. She was wearing a pale yellow sundress with spaghetti straps, and strappy heels accented with yellow rosettes at the toes. All in all, she looked very sophisticated, and very beautiful. She suppressed a giggle as she surveyed the gorgeous new limo - no sense in looking childish in front of everyone who had come to her birthday celebration. Everyone who was anyone - meaning her friends from school, Zechs, many diplomats, and even a politician or two - was crowded around outside admiring her fantastic, extravagant present. Relena shivered and practiced iron self-control, to keep herself from skipping over to her brother and giving a him a huge, undignified hug.

Zechs moved away from the glistening hood and began to explain to Pagan, standing nearby, how his little sister was going to need a new chauffeur to drive her around. She was getting too old for the portly, wrinkled man who was currently filling the position. Relena huffed a sigh under her breath - he was awfully overprotective for someone who never deigned to show up at any of her speeches! He was treating her like a child despite having given her such a grown-up gift. She bit her lip and began to worry it between her teeth, her sky-without-clouds-colored eyes troubled. The lip gloss that had been carefully applied for her wore off in her mouth, and she tried to force a smile, but she couldn't quite manage it. Zechs came over to her, bowing stiffly.  
"It's good to see you. I trust you're pleased with your gift?" he inquired formally.  
"Naturally. It's a beautiful, functional - if a bit extravagant and showy - present. I find that I am quite satisfied with it," she replied, equally formally. Inside though, she was shouting. How dare he treat her this way?! As though she was nothing more than a run-of-the-mill diplomat, she fumed silently. Smiling sweetly at all those assembled, she cleared her throat and raised her voice a notch.  
"I find myself fatigued by all of the excitement. I am going to retire early. Please, carry on in my absence," she announced. Ignoring the wicked looks given her by several of her guests, most particularly and noticably Zechs, she turned on her sharp pointed heel and clicked down the driveway into the mansion.

Once she got inside her own room, she blew out the breath she'd been holding and sagged against the locked door. She pulled out the drawer of her small writing desk, shuddering at the color, and removed an similarly hideously colored journal. When she had been twelve, she'd gone through a phase where she adored pink - the brighter the shade the better. Now that she was finally growing up, she was getting a little sick of it. She flopped down onto the plushly carpeted floor, ignoring the wrinkles she was probably putting in her pleated sundress, and began to scribble in the little personal book.

*Dear Diary:  
Well today was nearly a total loss. I have to say, the new white limo is exciting, but how about some new wallpaper! i can't believe i ever liked pink this much...  
I know, I used to love it, and not all that long ago. But now, when I think about the look of revulsion that crossed Heero's face everytime he saw the dreadful color-- well. I do wish i had a new diary, preferably one that is *not* pink, because the pages in this one are nearly used up.  
Kara in school today made a stupid comment about me. I swear, i thought those girls were supposed to like me? Dumb girl...was i ever that dumb?*

Relena flipped back towards the beginning of her book and winced. Apparently she had, at one point, been as irritating and flighty as they. She cringed.

*well...i guess that answers /that/. I didn't know I was ever that shallow! I hope I'm not still that shallow? i'd kind of like a computer - y'know, like Heero's laptop. With password protect. Then I could keep all of my personal thoughts somewhere---

Damn. Someone's knocking, well let them knock. Yes I said a swear word! what's up with this, anyway? Relena's s'posed to stay a baby forever?

I have to get up in front of crowds of people and give speeches now. I get so nervous my knees feel like water, and i swear I'm going to topple right off the stage. Well. Let's hope that never happens...blech. I feel like a stupid girl...damnit! I gotta get the door. come back to ya later...*

She slammed the book closed, furiously, her hair stubbornly resisting its pins and beginning to tumble down her nearly naked back. She struggled to her feet, again ignoring the wrinkles, and threw back the latch, opening the door. She stood completely still, barely able to breathe. In front of her, one hand resting on the doorframe, was a young man. He had wavy titian hair and the brightest, clearest blue eyes she'd ever seen - even purer-colored than Heero's.   
"Am I to assume that the lovely lady greeting me is none other than the famed speech-writer, Miss Relena?" he asked her in a voice so smooth she thought she could lick it up off the floor.  
"Ye-es," she faltered a bit. "But I don't understand, who are you, and why are you knocking on my bedroom door?"  
"Nice color," he commented, a slight sneer coloring his tone. She blanched, and he quickly spoke up again, "Sorry - I'm not used to it. I'm sure--"  
"I hate it! I used to like it, when I was about ten," she interrupted, then flushed furiously.  
"Well, now, that makes all the difference, doesn't it?" His delicious voice continued to swirl around her, assaulting her senses. She inhaled deeply, catching the rich scent of his cologne.  
"I must say, you are certain the loveliest young woman I've ever had the pleasure to meet." He smiled at her, thrusting out his hand, forestalling her protest that they had not been introduced.  
"Cayle Der Jonsson," he informed her, watching with veiled amusement as she gathered up the courage to take his hand and shake it.  
"Relena Peacecraft-Darlian, as I'm sure you knew," she replied. His hand was warm and strong, and she gradually relaxed. He was gorgeous, she thought, not for the first time. But with that thought spinning around in her brain, a wicked idea took root. She was tired of being a child, right? She grinned.  
"I don't believe I've ever seen hair that color before," she observed. He returned her grin.  
"From my mother's side. Personally, I hate it. Anyhow, pretty lady, how would you like to go out to dinner with me - and discuss campaign strategies?" he offered, his even, white teeth showing. Relena was flabbergasted. Her heart sunk. He was only here for *that*?  
"Well, sure. I accept. But - where should we go?"  
"Wherever the beautiful sweet sixteen would like, of course," he replied, his practiced charm absorbing into her skin. Suddenly a wicked smirk curved Relena's lips. He watched her curiously, waiting to see what she would say next. She was completely unpredictable - not at all what he had expected.  
"I have an idea. No way am I going to a boring dinner without some sort of entertainment afterwards. I've heard a lot about this sex - y'know, carnal - business. Anyway. I want to go to a, what do they call those places?" She smiled innocently up at him. He forced down his blush - he wasn't used to such young girls being so forward. He shrugged.  
"You mean like a sex-toy shop? You want to go to one of *those*?" he asked her, baffled.  
"Well, yeah. I wanna learn - so when I get to - you know - *do* it, I'll know how. And fun tricks." She pushed some of her blonde hair out of her face, examining him expectantly. He gulped as inconspicuously as possible. He *had* entertained the idea of seducing her, but he hadn't expected her to speak so baldly - or to make it so easy! A slow, easy grin spread over his face.  
"Well, honey, whatever you'd like. Shall we go?"  
"My dress!" she gasped, suddenly remembering. She glanced down, and her face fell. "I'll have to change. But I don't know what el--" before she could complete her sentence, Cayle had pushed his way into the room and was riffling through drawers. In just a few seconds he had found some of her mother's old clothes.   
"Eureka!" he cried jubilantly. He slowly drew a long, black, glittering gown from the pile of clothes. It was covered with luminescent sparkles that rippled endlessly, effectively obscuring any wrinkles the gown might possess. It had a halter-style bodice, with a scoop neck, an empire waist, and a skirt that fell to the floor in a mass of pleats. It was exquisite and she almost couldn't breathe, studying it.   
"It's just - luxurious. I love it, can I wear that?"  
"Of course, darlin'." he told her, and carefully passed it to her. It was a lush velour material, and the sparkles were a mixture of opalescent seed pearls and tiny diamonds. The plush fibers kissed her fingers and she pressed it to her cheek, astounded that her mother had owned anything so unique and incredible. It was like looking up into the night sky on Earth, she reflected. A smile spread across her features. Cayle was still studying her curiously, but she paid no attention. Finally she opened her eyes and raised them to his face.  
“You’ll have to wait outside the door while I change,” she directed. He shrugged indolently.  
“Not to worry, doll. I’ll be just outside the door, ya give me a holler when you’re ready, hear?”  
“Sure,” she replied absently. His smooth accent touched her all over and she felt herself grow increasingly warm between her legs. He shut the door with a soft “snick” and she smiled lazily to herself.  
“Soon, maybe I’ll understand what that feeling means,” she murmured. As she slipped the dress over her hips--just beginning to develop--she realized it felt like that one time she’d fallen asleep on the beach on Earth. The sun had caressed the sky, gently beating down on her bare legs as the ocean lapped at the shore. The soft rushing sound of the water had lulled her to sleep, and when she’d opened her eyes again, there was a warm flush on her legs and thighs. She’d gazed up into the sky and the sun was like a golden bubble inside a deep blue crystal.

She squirmed inside of the dress, a slight dampness seeping through her panties. Crossing the room to the mirror, she admired herself in the glass. It looked like she was cloaked in stars. Relena called Cayle back into the room, and as he entered, he blew out his breath in one long whistle.  
“You look like you’ve been dressed in the night sky,” he complimented. She faced him and smiled.  
“Ready? I think I am,” she said. He took her arm and they left the room together.  
“We have to let your brother know where we’re going,” Cayle said. Relena gave him an incredulous look.  
“Like Zechs-the-perfect is going to let me go to a sex shop? Yeah, right. If we hurry, we can get out of here before the party’s even over. Come on!” she hiked up the long plush skirt and began walking even faster.

~*~

“What /is/ this?” she forced out of her dry throat. The long silver cylinder she held in her hands was at least eight inches and 2 inches in width. It winked at her under the high-fluorescent lights and Cayle leaned backwards to see what she was holding. He stifled a snicker when he caught sight of the vibrator, which was one of the larger models of that type.  
“It’s a vibrator, Relena. ‘Course, most gals start a little smaller--but the lady may have whatever she likes,” Cayle drawled, studying her closely. Her eyes widened, then narrowed in contepmplation.  
“Find me something good, Cayle,” Relena said. He tossed her a deliciously wicked grin, the gleam in his eyes almost as bright as the lights, and entered a separate aisle. He browsed the products on the shelf, finally selecting one of the samples--a lifelike penis complete with balls. He gave it an experimental snap and smirked.  
“Here, check this one out.” he called over to her. She followed his voice, and gasped in surprise when he hit her with the squishy penis-lookalike.  
“Geesh! What is that?” she asked curiously. Cayle rolled his eyes.  
“Relena, you are too damn innocent. I shouldn’t have taken you here,” he said. She dropped her eyes.  
“I am not. I’ve just been sheltered, that’s all. I want to keep looking. Hell, I want to buy something,” she informed him haughtily. He shrugged.  
“It’s your money, babe. I know what you could purchase though. Try one of the smaller vibrators, or maybe one of the ones that lights up. Or a strap-on with a harness.”  
“A /what/?” she said, eyes overly-wide yet again. He grabbed something else off the shelf and showed it to her. It was a large candy-corn colored dildo, and as he displayed it, he told her,  
“And it smells like candy-corn, too. Plus you get one of those harnesses,” he pointed, “maybe in leather, and then you can use this to penetrate someone else even though you’re a girl. I’ve heard it’s an awful lot of fun.” he replaced the object on the shelf. Relena bit her lip and examined the harnesses with hooded eyes. She looked up at Cayle through her lashes and wondered if he’d show her how to penetrate someone else. With a sparkle in her eyes that matched her gown--she’d gotten some interesting and confused looks when she’d entered the sex-boutique in her fancy attire--she picked it up again.  
“Fine. I want this, and that leather studded harness, and a vibrator. Pick one for me. But /not/ pink for heaven’s sake. And then,” she added sweetly, “will you let me penetrate you?”  
His eyes nearly bugged out of his head. The girl was /forward/. But he supposed it could be a lot of fun, what anal experience he’d had had been mindblowing. He shrugged yet again.  
“Sure, luv. Just give the lady at the counter something other than your brother’s credit card,” he instructed her. She let out a tinkling laugh.  
“Never fear, I’ll just use Quatre’s,” she struggled to get out between giggles. “I’m sure he won’t mind, and he’ll probably be quite amused with the whole scenario,” she said. She placed her selections on the counter, with an addition of a light lavender vibrator that Cayle had chosen. It was substantially smaller than the one she had originally been looking at, but that was okay, she figured. Maybe eventually she’d know enough about the whole process that she could return to purchase that one next. The lady at the register placed her purchases in a little brown paper bag and Relena smiled up at the young man next to her. His strawberry blonde hair was windblown and if she didn’t miss her guess there was a light flush staining those alabaster cheeks. She linked her arm through his again and led him to the door. She couldn’t wait to get home and try out her new toys.

~*~

Relena was a little startled when Cayle took her to his hotel room, but she quickly adjusted. After all, it wouldn’t do to have someone--her mother, or Zechs for example--walk in on her while she was learning the joys of physical pleasure. (At least, her mother always referred to it that way--in quotes--”the joys of physical pleasure.”) Relena was itching in her own skin to find out what it was all about. Cayle was puttering around the impersonal room, preparing, although she wasn’t sure what exactly needed preparation. After several minutes he opened the bathroom door where he’d left her to her musings and she followed him into the room. And stopped. And gasped. The entire room had been transformed: the curtains were a soft pastel yellow threaded through with violet embroidered flowers; candles had been lit and placed around the perimeter of the room. The dying sunlight was leaking through the lacy curtains and creating patterns of firelight-colored flowers on the carpet, which was a delicate teal color. Her toes sank into the incredibly rich plush under her feet and she shivered with delight. Between the sun and the candles the entire room was alight with lavender, orange, and golden-rose hues. The bed was directly in the center of the room with the large, fluffy cream coverlet turned down in preparation for what was to come. Her newly acquired toys were arranged artfully on the cherry-wood bedside table and a turquoise candle sat burning above them. Cayle smiled at her reaction, then gestured to the bed.  
“If the lovely lady would care to position herself on the bed than we can begin,” he said in a low, dangerous lilt. Relena shivered again, the night-sky decorated gown not providing much warmth in her sudden apprehension. Cayle crossed the room, then stood behind her. He lifted the waterfall of curls that had descended upon her back as the day had waned, then tugged her zipper down.  
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” his breath dampened her earlobe. Relena glanced down in shock as her nipples hardened, then arched her back as his fingers stroked the lines of her shoulderblades.  
“Ah!” she exhaled. The warmth of his fingers mimicked the heat of his breath and she felt her knees trembling. Cayle began to inch the sensuous, slick material down over her hips and she leaned even further backwards, trying to rub against his touch again.  
“Relax, luv,” he soothed her, “it’ll happen soon. But I can’t get the dress off if you keep leaning on me like that,” he told her reasonably. She nodded, her hair tickling the back of her neck, and relaxed. Moments later the dress slithered to the floor, puddling like oil at her feet. The cool air-conditioning swept across her bare lower back and she inhaled sharply. Sweat beaded on her upper lip as she arched her back yet again, and Cayle laughed to himself. She was so hot for him already, and he hadn’t even kissed her yet. Yes, this was going to be an easy task. He unhooked the little clasp on her bra, dropped a kiss on the patch of skin it revealed, then whirled her around to face him. She wore nothing but black cotton bikini panties and he lifted her chin with one finger.  
“Open your eyes, darlin’,” he told her, “I want to see them change when I kiss you.” She obeyed, and he leaned in and took her upper lip into his mouth, tugging gently. His tongue swept over the threshold of her mouth and began to explore, tasting the dark, damp regions. She shuddered beneath him and his fingers found her left nipple, which was already hard. Her eyes had drifted closed again involuntarily and he’d gotten the barest glimpse as the blue had darkened to the color of a stormy sea. He gently tweaked the pebbled flesh between his thumb and forefinger and a strangled gasp escaped her mouth. Her body jerked forward of its own accord, and she found herself hyper-aware of the hard length of flesh that was pressed against her bare belly. She squirmed, rubbing herself against it, unable to deny the flood of sensations that were washing over her. He stopped kissing her, dipped his head down and clasped her nipple in his mouth. Relena screamed. He lifted his head to look at her, and her breast glistened in the candlelight with his saliva.  
“Don’t stop,” she muttered hoarsely. He chuckled.  
“Not to worry, luv. Just want to get you onto that bed now.” He guided her towards the bed, blew out the candle next to it, and gazed down at her as she sprawled across the coverlet. Her skin was reflecting the dancing shadows of the candles as she breathed, her abdomen dipping in and out with the heaving breaths she was taking. The hollows of her hipbones were the color of honey as the sun streaked down below the horizon, and the pink of her nipples darkened to a husky rose-gold. His fingers found her slit and he entered her, and she cried out and bucked her hips upwards into his firm touch. His tongue licked into her navel, which appeared to be filled with golden liquid as the sun made its final burst and then the room exploded into darkness--except for one still-flickering candle. He pulled his fingers out and put them into her mouth. She tasted something a little spicy and musky, and behind her closed lids rolled her eyes back. He reared back and entered her in one powerful stroke, his cock throbbing against her heated velvety flesh. She screamed again.  
“Cayle!” There was the slightest pinch and then he was all the way inside of her, and breathing hard. His titian hair was curling in damp ringlets and sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck. The clear blue of his eyes was obscured by desire and he thrust in even further. She raised her hips to meet him and grunted, mouth going dry. He stilled inside, then pulled out, and repeated the gesture. She moaned in response, writhing beneath him, one leg bent at the knee, foot arched. His fingers slid up the length of her calf and his mouth found her right nipple and began rolling it between his teeth. His left hand slipped underneath her and began to stroke her spine with rough, persistent caresses. She couldn’t keep her body still, everywhere he touched her she felt like she was on fire. An ocean of cold liquid couldn’t possibly cool her off. His tongue found the slope of her neck and he bit her--not too roughly--and then licked the reddened flesh. She made a mixture of soft and loud sounds deep in her throat and he felt his cock pulsing within her tight, hot passage. He jerked himself out of her wet heaven and balanced himself on his elbows, panting and soaked in sweat.  
“Want to try one of the vibrators next?” he ground out. Relena forced herself to come back down. She was dizzy and covered in sticky liquid. She blinked, struggling to focus her eyes on the golden-red haired guy positioned above her.  
“Ye--yeah,” she managed, then collapsed against the dripping sheets. He grinned at her.  
“You’re real good, you know,” he complimented her as he began to prepare the vibe for insertion. The cool lavender plastic felt like heaven against her overheated flesh and she moaned in response. He covered it with her own wetness then slipped it inside of her slick hole. She felt her hips lurch up of their own accord, and her body stretched to take in the whole slender vibrator. And then, he turned it on. A scream ripped itself from her throat at the sensations that devoured her. He began pumping it in and out and she rocked her pelvis so hard that it bumped against his knuckles. Liquid spread across them and he let go of the toy to put them in his mouth, savoring the taste of her as it dripped onto his tongue. The vibrator went slip-sliding out of her and she grabbed the back of his neck.  
“More!” she shouted. His saturated hair gleamed in the last candle’s light and stuck to the back of her hand. He reinserted the vibrator, pumping it in and out, varying the speed as the noises she was making increased in both decibel and timbre. At last it broke over her, and her body convulsed of its own accord, the soft swollen lips between her legs throbbing with the impulse. He removed the vibrator, entered her again, and nearly fainted as her muscles clenched the length of his cock with the aftershocks of her orgasm. He drew out of her again and his semen spurted onto her flat, glistening abdomen. She opened her eyes and stroked her bottom lip with her tongue.  
“As soon,” pant, “as my legs stop,“ pant, ”trembling, I get to do you in the ass. Fucking hell that was wonderful,” she tilted her head back against the damp pillow. Cayle rolled over to the side and lay next to her, body quivering with exhaustion.  
“Babe, it’s gonna have to wait till a little later. I’m spent,” he told her in a hoarse voice. She tangled her fingers in his reddish-gold hair.  
“So beautiful,” she murmured as sleep claimed her. Cayle followed her into dreamland only seconds later.

~*~

Cayle returned her to her mansion early the next morning, and, much to Relena’s dismay, no one had even noticed that she was missing for the whole night. She sighed as she ran her hairbrush through her honey-gold hair and wished that she could see Cayle again; he had essentially assured her that they wouldn’t see each other again. She dropped the hairbrush onto her vanity with a clatter and gave up. Now if only she could erase the blue eyes that haunted her from her memory. First Heero, she reflected, now the gorgeous and sophisticated Cayle had stolen her heart. The sex toys were hidden in her bottom drawer--the one under her fancy bed--and the dildo and harness remained unused. She could hardly wait to try that one out--she supposed she would have to settle with one of the girls from school, or someone similar, so that she could find out what it felt like to be the one on the other side. She gave her reflection a half-smile and whirled away from it, flipping her hair over her shoulder, and flopping down onto her bed. Her fingers found their way within her ruffled panties and she let out a breath. It had been worth it, that she was sure of. Never again could she be ridiculed for being too young or too innocent.

Only a few short weeks later Heero had turned up on her doorstep looking more depressed than she’d ever seen him.

~*~

Relena smiled gently as she carefully placed the plate on the table. Heero was looking pensive, as usual, and she had been trying for days to snap him out of his self-induced funk. He began to pick at the food in front of him, mechanically shoveling it into his mouth. No matter what she told him, he always ate like a wild animal. She shrugged, crossed the room, and sat in the high-backed, carved chair across from him. Heero looked up, a string-bean dangling from two of his fingers, his mouth half-open. His eyes focused on the young blonde at the end of the table.  
"Rel," he began, "are you certain Duo wasn't being spiteful?" He shoved the string-bean into his mouth and chewed it angrily, as though it were the pilot in question. She sighed inwardly.  
"Heero, I've said this a hundred times. I'm sure he had his reasons. You, on the other hand, ran from your problems. That hardly seems fair, considering the gift he gave you."  
"Remind me," the pilot muttered sullenly. She groaned, and wished that she could begin tearing her hair out. She knew she had loved Heero once with the shallow, self-centered love of a child - now she knew she loved him as an adult, because only if she loved him could she continue to stand what he put her through daily, and had been for several months.  
"He taught you something about humanity. You ought to give that a chance sometime," she replied sarcastically. Heero gave her his patented glare, and she winced as she recalled all of the other times she'd been on the receiving end of it. So she'd been a stupid little girl - she just hoped that someday the pilots would forget about the ridiculous lengths she'd gone to just so she could be near Heero - so that she could have a little, moderately safe, piece of the action. Of course, she reflected, now she had a much larger piece than she'd bargained for. People who'd never even looked at her before were suddenly seeking out her advice.  
"I know." Heero got quiet and that depressed expression stole over his features again. She dropped her fork onto the table so hard it bounced and toppled onto the floor. Shoving her chair back with a loud scrape, she crossed the room and pulled Heero's chin upwards.  
"Stop that damn sulking! You asked me to help you forget about him. What is it you want? Do you want me to help you forget? Or do you want me to help you remember - so that you can change things?" her voice slowly rose, and so did Heero's eyebrows. He attempted to intensify the glare, but for once she refused to be intimidated. She leaned down and cautiously pulled his lower lip in between the two of hers. His eyes drifted closed and she accepted that as an invitation. She covered his mouth with hers, licking the length of his lips, and the kiss turned into something sprawling and sensual, and before either knew what was happening they were on the floor. Heero pinned her slender, petite frame beneath his much stronger, more muscled body, and began kissing her almost violently. To his surprise she responded ardently, furiously, her tongue just as demanding and insistent, and he found himself growing hard. Before he could tear her perfectly tailored clothes off of her body, she had slipped out from underneath him, grabbed his hand, and was tugging him to his feet.  
"Let's finish this in the bedroom, shall we?" she murmured throatily. With a growl he tossed her up over his shoulder and strode up the spiral staircase, slamming her bedroom door behind them.

~*~

Relena was lying in her bed, blue eyes focused on the ceiling, the memory of her pleasure still forefront in her brain, still warming her nude body. They were hidden underneath her large, fluffy, pale lavender comforter, and Heero was asleep, his breathing slightly raspy yet comforting to her somehow. Her base desires had been sated, but her mind was restless, wisps of thought drifting through her head periodically. She rolled onto her side, looking at Heero, and brushed a lock of dark hair off his forehead and onto the pillow.  
"I know you love him," she whispered, "and I'm sorry he rejected you. But it still hurts to be only second-best..." her hand softly rested against his cheek and his huge blue eyes opened and gazed into hers. They shimmered with unreadable emotion and she shivered.  
"Heero?" she asked, louder than her previous whisper.  
"Rel - tell me again."  
"I love you, Heero, and I always will. But you know --"  
"Don't say it. Can't we just pretend?"  
"But--"  
"I know, you're not the one I should be with. But if I can't have him, I'd rather have you." Heero told her solemnly, his fingers playing in her honey hair. She sighed, studying his solid, beautiful face, with its perfectly molded angles, like a sculpture. She sighed again.  
"Heero - listen to me. I had a lot of fun earlier. I won't lie and tell you I didn't, nor will I be evasive and tell you that I haven't wanted that for a long time. But *we* - as a couple - aren't meant to be." Her fingers traced patterns on his bare chest as she spoke. "I was a foolish little girl when I met you, following you around, begging you to kill me. I've grown up. You're a wonderful person, deep down, and someday you'll learn to get in touch with that. I *do* - and I always will - love you, but what you're looking at is your second-best. What I'm trying to say, Heero, is that we aren't the only two people who will ever love you, even if it seems like that now. You can stay here as long as you like, but sometime you're going to have to go back and straighten things out." She drew in a deep breath. The blue eyes that drilled into hers had gotten even larger, and she knew she had shocked him.  
"But Rel --" he protested weakly. She ground her teeth, he just couldn't make it easy, could he?  
"Heero! Goddamn it, listen to me! It isn't healthy for you to pine away for him, nor is it healthy - or fair - to expect me to lie in your arms in *HIS* place! I *do* love you, dammit all, but I won't do this! I want to find someone who loves me for *me*, not simply because his lover dumped him!" she finished, breathing heavily. His eyes looked about ready to pop out of his head.  
"I never knew you felt that way," he said in a stunned tone of voice.  
"I was *trying* to be tactful," she replied, the sarcasm creeping in again. Heero sat up in the bed, pushing the covers away from him. He dressed furiously, putting on his holster and then dumping the gun inside of it. He gazed back down at her, still charmingly mussed and in her bed--yes /her/ bed--and sighed.  
“Am I being that much of an idiot, then?” he asked her quietly.  
“Yes,” she replied. “Heero, I’ll miss you, but as it happens, I think I’m in love with someone else anyway. Please find Duo and try to get things worked out. And don’t come back here until you have. That’s an order, Heero.”  
“All right,” he responded, slipping back into his old yellow shoes. “Goodbye, Rel,” he said, then left the room. Five minutes later she heard the door slam. She slumped back against her pillow.  
“I hope he remembered his things,” she muttered. She rolled over, closed her eyes, and forced herself to go back to sleep.

Somewhere, Cayle tossed in his bed, a honey-haired girl haunting his dreams.

~owari~


	22. Bridge Over Troubled Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porn  
> Title from Simon & Garfunkel  
> /italics/

Quatre rubbed the bridge of his nose and groaned. His secretary had just entered the room carrying a brand-new stack of papers and file folders--all of which promised to contain time-sensitive issues that he, Quatre, was going to have to deal with. It was typical that ninety percent of the projects that needed to be completed were all high priority. Quatre had been running Winner Enterprises for almost four months and he had yet to figure out how to get everything done at the same time.  
“I need to clone myself,” he grumbled. Wufei walked in holding a paper cup filled with water, took one look at his exhausted lover, and rolled his eyes.  
“Quatre, you work much too hard,” he scolded gently. The blonde imitated Wufei’s eyeroll.  
“Yes, I know that. You remind me of this daily.”  
“And do you know why? Because everytime I get home from work the house is empty. I drive down here, take the elevator up to the tenth floor, and here you are! Always working, black smudges ruining that beautiful complexion, hair practically matted to your scalp. Do you even have time to shower anymore, with all the work you do nowadays? I swear, you looked and felt better in wartime.”  
“Wufei!” Quatre barked, glaring at his lover. “Enough. I have enough to worry about, more than enough problems to consider, without my live-in partner taking it upon himself to harangue me about it as well.”  
“Quatre,” Wufei uttered quietly, “you’re shouting. You would /never/ have raised your voice to me before you took over this job.” The dark-haired ex-pilot’s shoulders slumped. Quatre dropped his head into his hands, hair flopping messily over his knuckles. Papers fluttered to the floor but he ignored them. He mumbled something incoherent, and Wufei put his hands on the blonde’s shoulders.  
“Why don’t you let yourself relax at least a little?”  
“Because all of this needs to be done!” his voice was muffled by his fingers and he opened his eyes behind them. It was dark with slivers of light taunting him from beneath his bangs. He sighed heavily and dropped his hands.  
“And here I am, acting like a child, when there’s work to be done. Thank you, ‘Fei, for bringing me the water. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep, and I’ll be in--whenever I get this new pile of work out of the way.” He waved a hand at the stacks of paper surrounding him. Wufei dropped his hands and gave it up.  
“All right. I’ll probably be sleeping when you get home, don’t wake me.”  
“But you wake up as soon as I lie down in the bed!” Quatre protested. Wufei gave him a mournful look.  
“Exactly. You want to kill yourself working too hard, fine. But you’re going to be sleeping on the couch in the meantime.” The Asian turned and stalked out the room, his posture as stiff as it was the day that Quatre had met him. Quatre snorted. It didn’t change the fact that the work still wasn’t getting done. He pressed the buzzer on his phone.  
“Yes, Mr. Winner?” his secretary chirped.  
“I need a new red pen, a box of hanging file folders, and some computer discs.” he instructed her in a worn voice.  
“Yes, Mr. Winner,” she replied. Moments later she bustled into the room, the requested objects filling her arms.  
“Here you are. Anything else?” she asked.  
“How about several blonde clones,” he cracked. She gave him a confused look, then brightened.  
“Well, you could always ask your sisters for assistance,” she offered.  
“Nah, that’s all right. You go home now, okay? I’ll be fine,” he reassured her as she crinkled her brow.   
“Yes, sir.” she answered, then went into her little side office and put her coat on. Quatre surveyed the disarray on his desk, then dove in.

Six hours later the folders had all been disposed of and he was slogging his way through loose papers. He’d already had to get up twice and seek out more hanging folders, once to use the bathroom, and once to rummage through the little office fridge for anything that might be even remotely edible. He glanced at his watch as he put another red mark through a line of prose.  
“This will never fly in advertising--oh, /fuck/,” he swore viciously. It was almost four a.m.--he technically had to be /back/ at work at six and he hadn’t even /left/ yet.  
“Wufei is going to whip out the katana and serve me for dinner,” he muttered to himself. “Well, dammit.” He took a peek out the window and reassured himself that it was still dark outside. He shoved another disc into the drive and began typing rapidly, trying to forget that he’d relapsed back into the practice of swearing. Around five-thirty he finally collapsed, dirty blonde hair settling onto the vital documents beneath his fallen head.

That’s where his secretary, Alise, found him when she came into the office at seven. She grimaced, putting a hand over her mouth, and knocked intrepidly on his open office door.  
“Mr. Winner?” she called out tentatively. “Not again,” she said, “this is the third time and that’s just this week. I don’t think he ever goes home.” She entered his office after a moment’s hesitation and shook his shoulder. The blonde did not stir. She shook him slightly harder, raising her voice,  
“Mr. Winner? Mr. Winner! Sir, it’s really time to wake up. I think you should go home and take a vacation--” she stopped talking when she realized that he still hadn’t moved.

~*~

Wufei struggled to pull himself out of the dream. It felt like he was walking through honey and everything was sticky and slow. Finally he wrenched his eyes open and stared at the darkened ceiling, breathing hard.  
“There’s something wrong,” Wufei said, just as the phone rang. He halfway rolled over and yanked the receiver off the cradle. They kept a regular phone in the bedroom, just in case it rang while they were otherwise occupied. Not that Quatre was ever around anymore for that, Wufei thought bitterly, then reprimanded himself. He turned the phone right-side up and put it up to his ear.  
“Hello?” he said in a sleep-thickened voice.  
“Mr. Chang? Hello, this is Alise, I’m Mr. Winner’s secretary. He, um, seems to have collapsed at some point during the night--I couldn’t wake him when I came in this morning. The paramedics are here, they aren’t quite sure what’s the matter with him yet. I thought you might want to come down and take a look--”  
“Yes, yes. That sounds wise. I’ll be down immediately. Goodbye, Alise, and thanks for alerting me.” Wufei slammed the phone down onto the cradle and rolled out of their bed, landing on the balls of his feet. He dragged a comb through his hair has fast as he could, shoved his feet into some shoes, and dashed down the stairs, snagging his coat off the hook on his way out the door. He was still wearing his blue pajama shirt as he floored the gas of Quatre’s car, dark hair falling forward over his shoulders and threatening to get into his eyes and obscure his vision as he drove. With one hand on the steering wheel he roughly shoved the fine strands of hair out of his face and tried to force the car to go faster. He knew, logically, that Quatre was probably perfectly fine, but nonetheless, he worried. The blonde was not even sixteen yet--far too young, in Wufei’s opinion, to be running an entire company. But Quatre had insisted. The light directly in front of the sportscar changed to red and Wufei debated whether or not to stop, then decided he couldn’t wait and went screaming through the intersection. Five minutes later he pulled up in front of Quatre’s office building and jumped out of the car, leaving the motor running. He knew that one of Quatre’s many employees would see to his car with efficiency and precision and so he didn’t spare it another thought; the elevator was taking forever. Wufei shifted his weight from one foot to the other, glaring at the little red numbers that were changing much too slowly in his opinion. At last the doors pulled open and Wufei rushed inside, bumping against an official looking businessman in a three piece blue suit. The man threw him a nasty look but the Asian ignored it, jabbing the tenth floor button repeatedly. The car began to move upwards and Wufei took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. It was unlike him to be so anxious or antsy about /anything/--but then, Quatre was the only person who had ever really cared about him, so he supposed he could understand such a weak reaction in this particular instance. He glanced down and groaned. He was still wearing his pajamas and his hair was a sweaty, tangled mess first from the nightmare and then from all of the rushing around that he’d done.

By the time he made it into Quatre’s office, the blonde had been laid on the black leather couch across the room from his desk and a couple of paramedics were gently examining him. As Wufei dashed into the room, one hand catching on the doorjamb, the blonde opened his seafoam colored eyes and turned them instantly onto his dark-haired lover. The paramedic who was prodding Quatre’s knees sat back on his heels and looked over towards the door, alerted by the sudden intrusion. The other paramedic lifted his stethoscope from Quatre’s chest and said to his partner,  
“His heartbeat is steady, I don’t know why he won’t wake up.”  
“He’s awake, Otto,” replied his partner.  
“I’m okay,” Quatre announced imperatively, attempting to sit up.  
“Damn you, no, you don’t,” Wufei growled. “Sit back down, Mr. Overdid it. You’ve been unconscious for how long?”  
“He’s right,” Otto told Quatre. “I’m sorry, Mr. Winner, but you really need to go home and rest. Actually, we’re going to take you into the hospital for some tests before we send you home.”  
“The reason being?” Quatre asked, anger darkening his eyes.  
“Because, despite your status, you could be quite ill and we don’t know why you collapsed, nor why it was so difficult to wake you. We don’t want to send you home until we’re certain that you won’t lapse into a more serious coma.”  
“I’m fine,” Quatre snarled.  
“You are /not/ fine, Mr. Winner,” the other paramedic told him. “You’ve been unconscious for at least the past twenty minutes, and possibly even longer. You’re run-down, you’ve obviously been working too hard, from the looks of things you aren’t eating well and your secretary says you haven’t been sleeping, either. Unless you want to get even more seriously ill, you’ll let us bring you in and have you checked out.”  
“Go with them, Quat,” Wufei said. “I’ve been worrying about you, maybe this will finally get you to slow down a bit.”  
Quatre shot his lover a petulant look--reminder that he was only fifteen--and allowed the paramedics to strap him onto the stretcher.

~*~

Several days later Quatre was allowed to leave the hospital on strict orders to take a vacation for at least a week. Wufei was waiting for him, with arms crossed, at the bottom of the stairs when his chauffeur dropped him off in front of the mansion. Quatre smiled a little guiltily and brushed his clean hair out of his eyes.  
“Sorry, I guess I got a little carried away...” he apologised. Wufei looked him up and down, nodded, and tossed his ponytail over his shoulder.  
“You need to eat. You’re even thinner than you were when I met you, and you didn’t weigh enough then.”  
“I’m not hungry,” Quatre chewed his lip. Wufei uncrossed his arms and studied his lover a bit longer.  
“Well, they found something in the water at work. The company, Clear Mountain PondTM, denies any knowledge of the particular chemical found in the water at your office. They did extensive testing on their water at the plant and found nothing--it looks like someone deliberately tampered with it.”  
“But why?” Quatre asked.  
“The authorities don’t know yet. Frankly, I do not like this. Someone poisoned the water with an obscure substance that wouldn’t have been caught if not for the fact that you were so exhausted it caused a more lethal effect than planned.”  
“Oh,” Quatre said. He looked down at his feet. Again Wufei was struck by how young he was--they all were. Too young to be dealing with such adult issues. He cleared his throat.  
“You really should eat,” he suggested gently. Quatre scuffed his shoe on the carpet.  
“It’s nice to relax, ‘Fei, it honestly is. It’s nice to let you take over for awhile. But,” he gazed earnestly into the Chinese ex-pilot’s eyes, “I really do have to work. I disobeyed my father in so many ways. I should at least honor his memory by keeping his company intact and running smoothly.”  
“Quatre--I know how you feel. Remember who you’re talking to about honor. But at least take some time to rest, or else you’ll be completely useless.” Wufei glanced over his shoulder up the stairs, then turned back to the Arabian, who was still rooted to the middle of the entranceway. “I gave the staff the day off.”  
“You did? Why?”  
“So that I could be a little more persuasive in why you should make sure to take some time for yourself,” Wufei replied, then reached up and tugged the elastic out of his ponytail. he shook his head so that the baby-fine hair curtained his finely-boned face. Quatre swallowed, then licked his upper lip.  
“You know just how to persuade me,” Quatre said. He lifted the hem of the plain white shirt he wore, exposing his lean stomach. With one rapid movement the shirt was over his head and Quatre was blowing his bangs out of his eyes. He walked over to his lover, who was standing still, anticipation forcing him to hold his position. Quatre looked positively feral as he put his hands on Wufei’s chest and pushed. The other boy stumbled backwards, winding up seated on the second stair.  
“Up,” Quatre breathed by Wufei’s ear. “Walk up the stairs some, so we aren’t visible in the entryway.”  
“On the /stairs/?” Wufei raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”  
“Oh, I’m up all right,” Quatre said suggestively. “And I happen to like trying new things once in awhile.” Wufei pulled himself to his feet, backed up the stairs several steps, and found himself halted by Quatre’s hot tongue probing his mouth.  
“You can stop there,” Quatre murmured, teeth tugging at Wufei’s lip. The blonde pressed in closer and Wufei could feel the hard proof that Quatre was, indeed, up to it. Wufei hung onto the banister for purchase as Quatre deepened the strokes of his tongue, grinding his erection against the thin fabric of Wufei’s light-colored pants. The heat permeated the entire area and Wufei hardened even further; Quatre withdrew his tongue and jerked a hand up beneath Wufei’s shirt. Seconds later he shredded the fabric in his haste to divest Wufei of his clothes; the Asian rolled his head back, arching against the steep incline of the stair. The blonde grazed Wufei’s chest with his teeth, pausing to bite the circumference of one nipple; with his other hand he pulled free the knot in Wufei’s pants and jerked them down over slender, golden hips.  
“Wider,” Quatre growled, and without waiting for Wufei to comply roughly spread his lover’s legs. Wufei’s toes were touching the wall and the banister and Quatre sat up, unzipped and yanked open his jeans, and leaned forward.  
“Stroke me,” he ordered in a dangerous tone, lips nearly kissing Wufei’s cheek as he did so. The Chinese boy wrapped his fist around Quatre’s cock, thumb pressing and circling the blonde’s cockhead, growing damp from the precum that had pearled at the tip. Before he could begin to pump, however, Quatre grabbed his hand.  
“Spit, and lots of it. And then relax,” Quatre demanded. Wufei relaxed his lower lip and let a pool of saliva coat their fingers and Quatre’s cock, then released him. He inhaled and exhaled in succession, loosening his ring as best he could, then lay backwards, head supported by one hand and the stairstep. Quatre spread the spit over his cock, then positioned the head at Wufei’s entrance, and plunged in. Wufei growled and bit his bottom lip. Quatre paused, letting his lover adjust, one hand weaving into Wufei’s sweaty hair. The damp curls at the base of Wufei’s hard-on tickled Quatre’s ass, and he reached under with his other hand, squeezing the Asian’s balls as he pulled out and then thrust back inside. Wufei’s muscles clenched, trying to force him out, but Quatre was persistent. The black-haired boy turned his head sideways and forced a fist into his mouth. Quatre reared and pumped in once again, and Wufei couldn’t hold in the scream:  
“Holy FUCK!” His cock throbbed and spasmed, and Quatre rubbed the underside of it with his thumb as he continued to play with his balls. He thrust inward again, shoving against Wufei’s prostate and grinning painfully as the other boy screamed again. The fist in between his teeth was not enough to keep him quiet.   
“Now,” Quatre ground out, “jerk off--” he plunged into the depths of Wufei’s soaking, thrumming body yet again. The Chinese boy covered his cock with his wet hand and began stroking furiously, the skin moving with the force of his fingers. Quatre arched his neck, hollered to the rafters, and exploded within Wufei. His fingers were still twisted in the silky, sweaty hair of the boy beneath him and he collapsed carefully on top of him, letting go of the slick balls. Wufei’s cum was all over Quatre’s stomach and the wall, and there was a spreading puddle of saliva on the carpeted stair. Quatre reached up and grabbed the banister where Wufei’s hand had been earlier, trying to steady himself. His legs were quivering and his cock was still throbbing within Wufei.  
“Okay,” he wheezed, “/now/ I’m hungry.” He opened his eyes and met the Chinese boy’s. “You going to cook for me?”  
“Kiss me first,” Wufei commanded, and Quatre obliged. His tongue swept easily into his lover’s mouth, and their mouths were still a little dry. He breathed in heavily and broke the kiss, dropping his head onto Wufei’s sweaty chest, ear tickled by the pert nipple beneath it.  
“Now, you’re forgiven,” Wufei said softly, and Quatre’s lips curved against the Asian’s torso. Wufei cupped Quatre’s hip inside his open jeans and sighed.  
“Fuck, you’re good,” he murmured.

~*~

Quatre shovelled some more scrambled eggs into his mouth. He’d forgotten just how good fresh food tasted. Wufei was slathering some margarine on a piece of toast, and he had a banana next to him on the table for when he’d finished his breakfast.  
“This is an interesting experience; eating breakfast at seven p.m.” Quatre observed, then put down his fork. “And that banana is just tempting me,” he wiggled his eyebrows. Wufei opened his eyes wider.  
“Mr. Winner, you are being downright lascivious. I do not know what to make of this!” he said. Quatre laughed.  
“It just feels good to relax, is all. Even though I know all that work is just piling up, all I can see at the moment is your ass, open after I pulled out--” Wufei choked on his toast.  
“Quatre! I can’t eat and...mm...” he trailed off, remembering the way that Quatre’s eyes had rolled back and the drop of sweat that had rolled down his cheekbone when he came. He dumped the toast unceremoniously back onto his plate.  
“I want it to be official,” Wufei said imperiously. Quatre paused, a fork digging into his eggs.  
“What?”  
“I want to be yours forever,” Wufei said more softly. Quatre grinned, jerked the napkin out of his lap, and stood up. Seconds later his tongue was exploring the shell of Wufei’s ear.  
“You are,” he said. “But if you really want to proclaim it, we could get you a collar.”   
“Grk!” Wufei spat out his coffee. “Well, maybe at home, but that’s not precisely what I had in mind,” he explained.  
“I know that,” Quatre replied. “I could pull some strings, do some finagling, maybe get us an official partnership license. That’s about all they’ll give us though, since we’re the same gender.”  
“I don’t mind that,” Wufei answered. “But I want something to wear, something that makes us permanent.”  
“Wufei, why are you so concerned with this now?” Quatre asked. He brushed some of the hair out of Wufei’s dark eyes. The Asian looked up through his lashes at his lover.  
“I’m remembering May’s face, and Walker’s after you shot him. They brought some people up on charges of war crimes this morning,” he gestured to the newspaper that had been abandoned on the table, “and just in case we’re next I want to make sure I had the chance to say I love you. And that you’re mine, and I’m yours.” He looked away. Quatre ran a couple fingers through his hair again and contemplated.  
“You /are/ mine, and I’ll always remember that. You held me when I needed it, and I had someone I could care for, finally. Wait, I might have something--” he said, then took off up the recently abused staircase. He returned with a metal ring that had a star on it.  
“It was Iria’s. She pressed it into my hands just before--” he broke off, refusing to speak the painful words. “But if you would wear it, here,” he slipped it onto Wufei’s left hand, “I’d be extremely gratified. I--I think I love you.” Quatre shook his hair out of his eyes for the umpteenth time. Wufei twisted the ring on his finger, then allowed a small smile to break through.  
“I’d be honored to wear it. And Quatre?” he asked. The blonde met his eyes. “I’ve known I was in love with you for a long time. I just didn’t want to get in the way of the debt to your father. At the same time I knew Iria would have wanted you to rest sometimes, too.”  
“I know,” Quatre whispered. “But my heart is afraid. I don’t know when, or if, I’ll be able to say those words again. If ever. Are you sure this is what you want?”  
“The only thing I’ve ever been more certain about is my honor. Quatre, will you fulfill that honor by becoming my husband?” he asked solemnly. Quatre shook his head, a single tear glimmering at the corner of his eye. He stared out the window for a long moment, and when he looked back, the tear was gone.  
“I will, but not only because they might hang us tomorrow.”  
“No, of course not...” Wufei guided Quatre’s lips back onto his own, kissing him slowly and thoroughly. At last Wufei’s fingers slipped from Quatre’s chin; outside the sun dipped down. Quatre pulled away and went to the window, leaning against the cool glass.  
“Wufei? Make love to me,” he requested in a barely audible voice. Wufei got up from the table, toast cold, and retrieved his lover, threading their fingers together.  
“Of course,” he said, and they walked up the staircase to the bedroom hand in hand. Thunder crashed loudly overhead and Quatre could be heard screaming; in the kitchen the eggs congealed and rain pattered against the window where he’d been standing.

~*~

“Quatre? I’m home,” Wufei called into the large house, grimacing as his voice echoed back to him. Moments later he heard footsteps upstairs, eagerly taking the stairs two at a time. Quatre came into view wearing only a towel from his shower, and threw himself into Wufei’s startled embrace. The bag he was holding tipped sideways and crashed to the floor. Quatre covered the black-haired boy’s lips with his own, giving him a sloppy, damp kiss. When he finally pulled back, arms still linked around Wufei’s neck, he looked down.  
“Whatcha got there, lover?” he asked playfully. Wufei rolled his eyes again--he was noticing that it was becoming a habit--and licked Quatre’s nose.  
“You’ll see, soon enough. I take it the medicine agrees with you?” Wufei said.  
“It’s nice,” Quatre replied, closing his eyes and dropping his head onto Wufei’s shoulder. “But I still can’t sleep unless you hold me.”  
“I don’t know why they gave you medicine...” Wufei mused, stroking Quatre’s fine blonde hair. Quatre mumbled something, the nipped at his clothed shoulder.  
“It’s because I cracked a rib when I slipped and fell asleep on my desk,” Quatre disclosed. Wufei’s fingers paused in their repetitious movement through the blonde’s hair.  
“What? Is there a reason why no one told me about this?” Wufei asked. Quatre snuggled deeper against his lover.  
“We didn’t want to worry you so I paid the doctor not to mention it,” he offered. Wufei leaned his head against Quatre’s.   
“I don’t worry /that/ often,” he muttered, “besides, I should know these things. What do you want for dinner, anyway?”  
“You don’t have to make anything, the cook came back around 7 p.m.” Quatre said.  
“What if I /want/ to?” Wufei’s hands wandered and began to caress the slender length of Quatre’s back. The blonde growled in his throat and arched into the touch.  
“Instead, why don’t we go upstairs and you can show me what you bought,” Quatre suggested. “I’m not hungry, really. I ate before you came home.”  
“Quatre--”  
“I’m not lying, ‘Fei. I couldn’t lie to you--I know what it would do to your honor. So relax. I had some broth; it’s about all I can stand to keep down at this point. The codeine, other than making me feel floaty, seems to irritate my stomach.”  
“Quatre,” Wufei drew his lover away so that he could look into the aqua eyes he’d fallen in love with, “I’m going to be so glad when this is all over.”  
“Me, too. But maybe you could help me fall asleep?” Quatre raised his eyebrows. The black-haired boy smiled.  
“If that’s what you want,” and before the words had even had the chance to echo back to him Quatre was pulling him up the stairs. Wufei savored the sight of his lithe lover’s ass from behind as he was towed along.

When they reached the bedroom, Quatre slammed the door open with such force that the china on the dresser rattled. He let go of Wufei’s hand and flung himself diagonally across their rumpled bed, then glanced back expectantly. Wufei was glad he’d snagged the bag of purchases on his way; he dangled it between his fingers and waited.  
“Show me!” Quatre demanded, the medicine causing the rest of his adult inhibitions to melt away. Wufei put the back down and examined the blonde, who was lying with his knees and feet hanging over the side of the unmade bed.  
“Are you sure that you shouldn’t be careful? If you cracked a rib and all?” he asked. Something about domestic life had turned him into a chronic worrier and it was driving him crazy. But Quatre didn’t exactly have a father anymore...  
“I’m /fine/. Dammit, Wufei, stop acting like an old lady. Or Rashid for that matter. And come /here/!” Quatre said in exasperation. Obediently, Wufei spread out on the bed next to Quatre. The blonde twisted to look at him, reaching out and tugging some of the black hair out of Wufei’s ponytail. The Asian’s fingers tangled in Quatre’s shirt and began to slide it up, but Quatre shook his head.  
“Not now. I want to sleep and I want to see what you bought,” he said. Wufei retrieved the bag and returned to the bed, positioning himself on his side. He pulled a cellophane-wrapped package out of the bag and held it up. Quatre gazed at it curiously, then yanked it out of the Chinese boy’s grasp. He dissolved into giggles.  
“It’s a collar! Ooh, neat. May I put it around your neck?” he asked. Wufei nodded once. Quat ripped through the plastic wrapping, unhooked the object within, and snapped it around the golden neck above him. A pulse throbbed in Wufei’s throat and he swallowed. Quatre smiled, then fell against Wufei’s chest.  
“I’m so sleepy. Damn medicine...” he murmured, eyes drifting closed. Wufei pulled the blonde down on top of him, then began stroking circles over his spine. Within moments the Arabian had fallen asleep. Fingering the collar with one hand, Wufei grinned down at the blonde head resting on his torso. As he followed Quatre into dreams he whispered,  
“I’m yours, now, forever.”

~*~

Duo kicked the sheets off of his body, rolled over on the stiff cot in the rectory, and let out a short scream. He woke himself up and brushed sweaty bangs away from his eyes. Was it the children? No, the dream began to seep back, coalescing and surrounding him. Black hair and blonde, tied together--it was going to be ripped apart--

~*~

Dawn broke over the mansion and Quatre blinked under the sudden brightness and opened his eyes. Beside him lay Wufei, head thrown to the right, hair gleaming blindingly in the morning sun. He smiled and trailed a finger lazily down the black-haired boy’s arm. Wufei opened his eyes slowly, caught sight of Quatre, and smirked.  
“All ready to go?” he inquired.  
“Always,” Quatre breathed, then slipped his hand inside Wufei’s sleeve and tickled his nipple. Wufei flipped the blonde over onto his back, sat up on his knees, and stripped off his shirt. Quatre reached up, pushed Wufei backwards, down onto the bed, and covered the Chinese boy with his body.  
“Don’t forget who you belong to,” he admonished, before dipping his head down and stroking the inside of Wufei’s navel with his tongue. Wufei dug his nails into the blonde’s scalp; Quatre’s tongue departed and was replaced with his fingers. Quatre tore Wufei’s pants open and got a firm grasp on the awakening cock within. Wufei dropped one arm to his side and began to play with Quatre’s exposed kneecap. Quatre’s pajama pants were shoved up over his knees.  
“I don’t think we can get your pants off quick enough; may I?” Wufei asked. Quatre managed a nod and stole a lick of Wufei’s cock. Wufei cried out, barely able to untie the drawstring. Quatre sat back up and his cock pressed against his belly, already completely hard. Wufei closed his eyes and rubbed his thumb over the head of Quatre’s cock. Quatre grabbed his hand and stilled it.  
“No. Other way,” Quatre lifted his leg over Wufei’s half-naked body and rolled the Asian onto his back. He yanked the pants down over the round curve of his ass, smacked it hard, and snarled,  
“On the floor. If you’re mine I’m going to fuck you like nothing else.” He punctuated his sentence with another slap to Wufei’s ass and the boy scrambled to obey. He crawled onto the carpet, tossed his head back, and inserted a finger inside of his collar. Quatre hurriedly disposed of the rest of his pajamas and followed. He stood behind his new possession and buried a finger in the tight ring of Wufei’s ass. With his other hand he held his blonde hair out of his face, scanning the room. He shrugged.  
“This is gonna hurt but I don’t feel like finding the lube,” he informed the boy on his hands and knees below him. Wufei shrugged and his shoulderblades became more pronounced under his honey-colored skin. Quatre removed his finger, dropped some saliva onto his cock, and clutched Wufei’s shoulder with his right hand. With his left he spread the cheeks of Wufei’s ass, sought his entrance, and thrust inside. He forced himself in to the base of his cock, balls slapping against Wufei’s ass. He reached under his lover, dragged a fingertip down his abdomen, and wrapped his fist around Wufei’s hot, throbbing erection. He jerked out of Wufei’s body, then stabbed back inside as he began to pump with his sweaty fingers. Wufei screamed again and Quatre’s hair flopped back into his eyes. Impatiently he rocked his head sideways to dispose of the annoyance and in doing so twisted his pelvis to the side, with created fiction between Wufei’s prostate and his cock. Wufei screamed louder and arched his spine. Quatre pulled out, then plunged in again, bending his head and biting Wufei’s left cheek. Blood beaded on the delicate skin, and he licked it up. He growled deep in his throat again and began to move faster. His fingers were going dry, and he let go of Wufei’s cock long enough to coat them with fresh saliva. He replaced his fingers and began to stroke faster; Wufei raised his ass to meet Quatre’s thrusts and the blonde sunk in even deeper. With another piercing shout Wufei let go and cum splattered over Quatre’s fingers and the carpet. Several seconds later Quatre grabbed hold of Wufei’s sides, arched his back, and came forcefully within his lover’s ass. When he had regained a modicum of breath he leaned down and bit Wufei’s shoulder. As their breathing began to slow down there was a loud banging on the door. Quatre jerked his cock out of Wufei’s ass and helped the Chinese boy stand up.  
“Cover yourself in the bed,” he directed, then went to the door. Making sure the latch was in place, he called, “Who is it?”  
“It’s Rashid, Master Quatre. There has been a summons for you, of what sort I am not certain. It’s been directed to your private office email.”  
“Thank you, Rashid,” Quatre said. He looked over his shoulder at Wufei, who was still drenched in sweat and panting. “There’s a message to my email. Why don’t you catch a shower, I’ll check the mail, and join you?” He winked and Wufei flopped backwards, an arm over his eyes.  
“Quat, I’m killed. And what did you do to my ass?”  
“I branded you. Just in case the collar wasn’t convincing enough, you’re mine now.”  
“I was before,” Wufei grumbled and staggered into the adjoining bathroom. As the shower water began running Quatre logged into his email, then sat down hard on his chair. His cock and balls were still sticky with cum, as were certain fingers, but as he read all of it was forgotten.

Operation Meteor was going back into effect. And the Gundams were still hurtling towards the sun. He dragged a hand viciously through his blond hair, then stood and went to tell Wufei the bad news.

~end ch. 21~


	23. First Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /italics/

Heero was standing alone, against a wall, covered by darkness. The bright lights didn't penetrate his corner or his gloom, but he was quite satisifed by that arrangement. He had his arms crossed, his eyes on the floor at the front of the club, where a young man stood, a microphone to his lips, his long hair artlessly arranged over his shoulders and his eyes closed. Behind him, a young lady began to play a large mahogany piano, and then the young man began to sing. Heero closed his eyes. He had waited for this moment for what felt like years, even if it was just a few short months. His birthday -- or at least, the day J claimed was his birthday -- had passed in silence and solitary relief. No-one knew it was his birthday, and no-one he cared about knew where he was, anyway. And Relena didn't know when his birthday was. It didn't matter, Heero thought. After all, J had probably made it up anyway.

But it had undeniably been months since he'd last seen Duo, and he was startled to discover upon searching for him, that he had returned to L2. So Heero had followed, reluctantly but with news that Quatre had given him -- the blond was resourceful when he wanted to be, Heero had to admit -- and it had fallen to him to inform Duo. But he was nonetheless surprised again when he was directed to the nightclub with the information that Duo was a regular singer there. An unfamiliar pang blossomed in his heart. Duo wouldn't be a singer much longer -- war was breaking out again, and the Gundam pilots had been recalled to active duty. They were no longer civilians. Duo's voice was clear, and he was admirably talented, Heero decided. Unfortunately it all had to come to an end. Heero didn't want to break into the performance, he wanted to stand there, eyes closed, the music washing over him and enjoy it -- but he had a mission to complete. The song, "Piano Man," was one Heero only knew because Duo had been known to play it on his CD player from time to time. It was bittersweet, and Heero was annoyed with the sudden softness. How could he fight a war if he was going so soft? He could not. Therefore he would have to work on his discipline and concentration, and he had to begin immediately. He left the shadows and strode purposefully towards the makeshift stage. The singer's eyes were still closed, and he didn't open them until a familiar grip closed over his upper arm. Then, they flew open, and anger filled them. He recognised that strength! Heero waited, watching the patrons slowly become aware that the song was faltering, that a strange young man was holding onto the singer. Before Duo could fully react, Heero held the microphone.

"I'm sorry, but he has to leave. He won't be performing here anymore." Heero dumped the mike, tugged Duo's arm. Duo looked furious, but frankly, Heero didn't much care.  
"What the /fuck/ are you doing?!" Duo ground out.  
"It's starting again, Duo. The pretty civilian life is over."  
"What the hell?" Only confusion registered on his face, in his distinctive eyes.  
"We have to retrieve the Gundams, and then we're expected to fight once more."  
"No fucking way," Duo said. His voice was lower than Heero remembered.  
"Unfortunately those are our orders."  
"But my chu-- my orph-- my life!" Duo was afraid of what Heero would say of his secrets.  
"I know all about you, Duo: I've kept up with what you've done. Simply because I couldn't face you did not mean I wouldn't keep track of you," Heero said calmly.  
"Well, fine. But /you/ walked away, Mr. Investigator. It was /you/ who said goodbye and went to work for Miss Relena."  
"I'm sorry, Duo. But that is the only time I am going to apologise. Now, we have to get going. We're in a hurry."  
"You're /sorry/?! That's all you can say? Dammit, Heero..." But Duo quieted, allowed himself to be led away. The man still holding his arm was different that Duo recalled. His hair was shorter, darker, and his eyes somehow more haunted. He was surprised to read any emotion there. He twisted his arm away from Heero, preferring to walk without assistance.  
"Duo, my reasons are my own. But it is time we returned to our sworn duty -- to protect peace,"  
"That's Relena's job," Duo said bitterly, but without conviction. She needed them, he knew that. The colonies, Earth, it seemed like everyone needed them. Once again he wished he was someone else, not a Gundam pilot, not a terrorist, not a soldier. Maybe not anything. As if Heero had read his mind, he said wistfully,  
"It was kind of nice being just a bodyguard, with no higher responsibility, no burden of impending death hanging over my head. I might just miss that."  
"Me too," Duo agreed, then looked up at the starry sky above them. The stars might be artificial, but they reminded him of his short stint on Earth, and he missed that. He missed Heero, even with the other teenager walking beside him.

In fact, he missed everything. Except maybe the death, the endless months of war, the feelings of inadequacy and futility. Perhaps they had never been anything but tools of war, never intended to live their own lives, but always expected to come out of retirement when the need arose. Duo sighed softly. For the first time in his life he felt unequipped to deal with war. He was tired, he felt like someone completely different than the long haired orphan who had fought in a Gundam to create an identity, who had killed thousands of people.

Maybe two of them had been his parents. Maybe his parents were still alive somewhere.

Maybe if he fought again, he could keep his parents alive. He sighed again. The choice had been made for him. Hell, he had to keep Heero alive, didn't he? The other young man was known for his impulsive stunts -- pressing self-destruction buttons -- and Duo didn't feel as close to anyone except Heero, whatever Heero felt for him. So, even though it would probably infuriate the other pilot to know Duo's thoughts, he had to protect him.

He just had to.

~end ch. 22~


	24. Second Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trowa and Caro get married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /italics/  
> OFC  
> het

Trowa and Caro had a small wedding. He created an identity for himself that was twenty-two years old, and Caro somehow managed to procure permission from her parents to marry him, despite her tender seventeen years. In fact, she had always been older than the other pilots, a bit of information that Trowa was surprised to learn. Her parents attended, of course, and her younger brother. Trowa had no family, and didn't want to notify the other pilots of his good fortune yet. He had only recently asked Caro to marry him, several days after they sent the Gundams into the sun. He hadn't wanted to marry her and widow her because he was still fighting a war, even if she didn't know about that aspect of his life. Little did he know, he was going to have to tell her, sooner than he expected. So no-one came to the wedding for Trowa. He would have been sad, except he had learned to control emotions like loneliness long ago, and then he'd found Caro. She made him think and feel in ways quite different than what he was used to. With her, he thought he could feel a little less lonely, and that would be one less emotion he would have to work hard to mask. He wasn't fond of being an open book -- as Duo would say -- so that anyone could read him. Not only that, but as a Gundam pilot, being easy to read was very dangerous -- it could cause his death.

Caro wore a light yellow dress with split bell sleeves and a silk skirt that was gathered on each side in the front, showing a white lace underskirt. Her honey hair was pulled back in two turquoise combs, the rest of it falling in leisurely curls down her back. Her dress had a low scooped back, and he admired her beautiful shoulders as they prepared to say their vows. It terrified him to be this happy. War had made everything uncertain, including their emotions. It had made him afraid to hope, to believe. Then he'd met Caro, and he had fallen in love in a way he never thought possible. It was only Duo, he thought with a pang, that intruded upon the blissful mood that hung over him. Sure, he loved Caro. He thought she was beautiful, and she had agreed to marry him. Her father had granted permission as well. But Duo... Duo was the wrench in the works. His long hair and striking eyes would not let Trowa's dreams alone. He knew that what they had had together was temporary, something unexpected, and he knew his deeper feelings were not reciprocated. He knew that Duo had feelings for Heero, and while Heero was being clueless, it didn't matter. Duo's heart was on hold for someone else, and Trowa was getting married. That was the true reason he didn't want Duo there. He didn't know if he could say his vows if Duo was watching. Didn't even know if he should. The previous night he had dreamt of Duo's slender fingers, his muscled thighs, his gorgeous eyes. He had woken in a cold sweat, terrified the feelings for Duo would never fade. Worried and frightened that those feelings would undermine his love for Caro. He hadn't mentioned anything to her, of course, and their wedding went quietly and smoothly, and then Trowa's life was inexplicably and subtly different. He was married. At last. He belonged.

It was late in the night three days after his marriage, while lying next to Caro, wide awake as she slept comfortably, that the phone rang. Trowa nearly leapt a foot into the air, his soldier's nerves jangling. He could instantly tell something was wrong. He reached gently over his sleeping wife and grabbed the phone from her night table. It was an old fashioned phone, because they both preferred not to have a vidphone in their bedroom. Strangely enough, as Trowa was lifting the receiver, he realised at that moment that Caro had once been with Duo. That she had likely had sex with one of Trowa's fellow pilots, and the young man with whom Trowa was so desperately and disastrously in love with. He shook his head to clear such thoughts, and put the phone to his ear.  
"Hello?"  
"Trowa?" Quatre's voice sounded on the other end of the line.  
"Quatre." Trowa said.  
"Operation Meteor has gone back into effect, and we have been called out of retirement. That means we have to retrieve the Gundams."  
"And it means more war," Trowa said in disbelief. He glanced over at his sleeping wife. Not even Catherine had witnessed their marriage -- no-one knew about it -- he had been trying to protect Caro. Now he was going to have to tell her he was a soldier, and that after only three days of marriage, that he was going back to war. That he was leaving her, and that he was probably going to be killed, and then she'd be a widow. A seventeen-year-old widow. Inwardly, Trowa shuddered.  
"Trowa? Are you okay?" Quatre asked. His friend was uncharacteristically silent. Ordinarily, it wasn't unusual for Trowa to be quiet and reserved, but he was never silent when asked a question or spoken to. He was always meticulously polite.  
"I-- Uh, I have something of a shock to disclose," Trowa said wretchedly. He didn't want to have to break his news just yet, but everything was falling to pieces -- his young beautiful wife was facing widowhood, and his friends didn't even know the commitment he'd made.  
"What is it?" Quatre asked, concerned.  
"I got married," Trowa blurted. Silence fell on the other end of the line.  
"You what?" Quatre said intelligently.  
"I married Caro."  
"You didn't ask us to come? We would have supported you, Tro! I'm disappointed we--" he broke off. "Oh, Allah. You're going to have to tell her that you're going off to war."  
"That's right. This is a miserable situation. I waited to ask her, I waited to marry her, until the war was finished, over -- so that we would be secure. So that she wouldn't lose her husband. God, Quat, we've only been married for three days!"  
"Oh, /fuck/," Quatre swore. On the other end Trowa nodded.  
"Exactly," he agreed. "I'd better get to it. We don't have much time, from the sound of things. And I still need to tell her." He looked at his sleeping wife. Her face was flushed, and she was still and peaceful, the half-moon of her eyelids softly silvered in the moonlight. Those green eyes, so much likes his own, yet at the same time so foreign, so unexpectedly beautiful. He had never considered his own eyes beautiful; had never thought that shade of green could be so lovely. It made him think of pictures of Ireland that he'd seen. He had wanted to take her to Ireland for their honeymoon. He had, after all, more than enough credits for several such trips and still have an excess. But then, she couldn't know that yet. And so their honeymoon was a group of nights in their sparsely furnished new apartment, partially paid for by her parents -- she could not know how rich he was, not yet. Their lives and missions were still far too dangerous to be jeopardised. On her finger glinted the thin, inexpensive band of gold he'd put there. His wife. He turned his attention back to the phone.  
"Goodbye, Quatre. I'll meet you at your office, okay? I know where it is."  
"Okay. Sorry to wake you so late, and with such awful news. Bye, Trowa." The line clicked off. Trowa pushed the button and put the phone down. He looked again at his wife. Gently he placed his palm over her shoulder, then squeezed lightly. She woke with a soft murmur, blinking her eyes in confusion, registering Trowa's face even in the darkness.  
"What is it?" she asked, voice clogged with sleep.  
"I have something important to tell you..." he paused. "I was a soldier in the wars that just ended several months ago. Unfortunately, peace is a hard-won and difficult commodity, and I have been called up to active duty. I'm so sorry, Caro, but I have to go to war."  
"What? No! Oh, God, you can't. You'll die. I'll be alone. Please don't go, I love you. Please?" but she could see the denial in his eyes, and she trembled, yanking the blanket close to her for comfort. He was going to leave her. She could barely believe it.  
"I am so sorry. I have to go, though, now. I really don't even have much time to pack, there is a shuttle I must catch."  
"Oh, my God." She was stunned. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. She could barely speak. "Trowa -- remember when we met? Our fourth date, and we kissed? And I told you about Duo. And then-- and then we slept together, and you told me you loved me. That you had realised it when you kissed my shoulder, that you had thought you could be happy with me. I-- I have some terrible news. I wasn't going to tell you yet -- after all we are just married and surely would sleep together many more times -- but I was ill afterwards and went to the doctor at the school." She paused. Trowa's heart was beating in his feet; it was hard to keep them still.  
"Oh, no," he whispered.  
"I'm sorry. I'm pregnant," she said quietly.  
"Oh, no," Trowa repeated. "Oh, no." Not only a wife but a baby. His baby, and he was leaving it behind, and he may never see it again. He buried his head in his hands. From no attachments to three -- Duo. Caro, and now the baby -- and it hurt so badly his arms ached from clenching his fists. He could be killed and his baby would be fatherless even before it was born. She touched his shoulder.  
"I'm sorry, Trowa. I didn't want you to leave and not know. I didn't--" her voice broke, but somehow she continued. "I didn't want you to die and not know you'd created something so special, so wonderful. God, I'm going to miss you." She slipped her rings off, and took off the necklace she wore often. Even in the darkness she managed to string her wedding band onto the chain. "Bring it with you, wear it always, please, my love?"  
"Of course. No question." He allowed her to fasten the chain around his neck. "I love you," he murmured, then kissed her cool lips. She kissed back, the hand that had been fastening the chain curving against his neck. Then she let him go, and her eyes were clear and glistening like the ocean beneath a storm. "Go, my darling. I'll love you always," she said, and he couldn't postpone it any longer. He got to his feet, grabbed some clothes from his drawers and tossed them into a paper bag. The bag he'd carried groceries in just that afternoon. He sighed. He glanced at her again, perched forlornly on the edge of the bed, then turned and went through the bedroom door. He couldn't say another word. He didn't look back.

As soon as he was gone she lay her head on his pillow and cried, long leisurely tears that seemed to take hours to fall. His pillow was damp when she finally returned to sleep.

~end ch. 23~


	25. Extracurricular Activities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No idea...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /italics/

_Dear Trowa,  
Things are very quiet around here with you gone. Just today I went to the doctor, he says the baby is developing normally. We miss you. Please tell me you will be home soon!  
Love,  
Caro_

Trowa crumpled the letter. It had been three months since he'd seen his wife, and he missed her. But he was surprised how little he missed her. Her letters were frequent, always filled with words of love and news of their baby. He regretted that he felt no excitement about his impending fatherhood. The truth was--  
"Trowa! Aren't you going to work on Heavyarms? There are several scratches over on that arm -- it will weaken the structure."  
"I received another letter from Caro. She writes to tell me she and the baby are well, and she misses me. She says our baby misses me, but I cannot believe--"  
"Trowa... Why did you marry her?"  
"You saw her, Duo. She was so beautiful your jaws lock to look at her. Your eyes ache. So beautiful. So honest. I think she loved you." Trowa looked pensively at his Gundam.  
"She didn't love me, Tro. She thought I was handsome."  
"No... She thought you were incredibly beautiful." Trowa's voice fell on the last word. Instinctively, Duo's voice fell to a hushed whisper.  
"Tro -- I don't think /she/ was the one who thought I was beautiful." Duo looked at him, eyes unforgiving on Trowa's face. Trowa refused to meet his gaze, just kept staring at Heavyarms. How could he tell Duo that he was correct? How could he tell Duo -- in love with Heero, no matter how dysfunctionally -- that he regretted marrying his wife, that there was only one person he had ever wanted? Trowa screamed suddenly, a gutteral rasp of anger, and anguish. The rafters trembled. Duo was thankful that they were the only ones in the hangar, and that the hangar was soundproofed to muffle the noises large Gundams made when entering. Duo just looked at Trowa, then slowly, without thought, placed a hand on his arm. Trowa jerked away.  
"Duo, don't touch me, please. How can I do this? How could I have fallen in love with -- with her? How could I have made a baby, me, I'm a dangerous killer, Duo. I killed that guard two weeks ago with my bare hands. He was dead before he even took another breath. I am lethal-- I married this woman, and she is so delicate, so fragile. She's pregnant. I can't have kids, Duo, what if I kill them too?" The emotion in his eyes was enough to frighten Duo, and being a Gundam pilot, not much did. But Trowa's green eyes had darkened almost to black, and they told secrets not many people knew. Trowa was anguished, his past, his present, his future all tangled together, and the war -- the war that kept him tied to the other pilots -- forced him back into close quarters with the man he had fallen in love with. At that moment Duo was certain who Trowa loved more than anyone else, and he was disheartened. Those moments when they had been together, when Heero had caught them, he had been confused, and lonely, and so utterly in thrall with Heero that when the Japanese pilot had rebuffed him, he had fallen into the arms of someone else.  
"You wouldn't murder your own children, Tro. You are more controlled than that." Duo tried to reassure him.  
"That's not true," Trowa disagreed. "I will kill my wife and my kids if I die in this fucking war!" He slammed his fist into his Gundam, and almost screamed in pain. But he held this one in.  
"Trowa, babe, I didn't know you could swear."  
"I bet you also didn't know that I crushed on Quatre first. But he was with Wufei, and then there was you. Why did you let me kiss you?" Trowa asked. Duo had only one answer for that. He looked up into Trowa's eyes, then wrapped one calloused hand around the back of Trowa's neck and pulled the other pilot's lips onto his own. Their lips met, Trowa's cool, and slightly chapped, Duo's slightly damp, and then Trowa angled his head, arm sliding around Duo's back, and slanted their mouths together. For long moments, he just held him, braid soft beneath his palm, Duo's mouth soft against his own, he didn't move, just pressed their lips together. His lips left Duo's, and he opened his eyes, prolonging the embrace. Trowa's breath was a feather against Duo's mouth. Duo's breath was naught more than a whisper against Trowa's chin. And then Duo was crushing their lips together again, possessive and almost violent, and he thrust his tongue against Trowa's underlip, and sucked it into his mouth -- his palm was hot against the back of Trowa's neck, his tongue was like a lick of fire on his lips, and Trowa ground their hips together. Not for the friction -- but to feel Duo as close as he could. He broke the kiss again to speak.  
"Duo -- I want to feel you inside me. Not sexually -- your everything. I want your soul to merge with mine. I want to feel like we're--" Trowa was cut off by Duo's lips, pressing insistently against Trowa's. His right hand was holding their heads together, his left hand settled on Tro's ass, and he pushed Trowa into him. At last he opened his mouth and coaxed Trowa's mouth open against his, and when their tongues finally met, Trowa could only sigh. Duo stopped kissing him, and leaned his head on Trowa's shoulder, their hips, legs, abdomens still pressed together as tightly as they could be.  
"I love you, Duo," Trowa murmured into the glossy dark bangs that tickled his chin. Duo trembled in his arms, as if the tension in his body was so great that he could not contain it.  
"I-- Fuck, Trowa, I adore kissing you. I adore looking at you. Your eyes, your hair, those cheekbones -- but I'm in love with Heero." He pulled away, met Trowa's steady gaze. "I can't help it. And Heero's such a clueless bastard, he can't fuckin' see it. He left me for Relena -- I don't know if he fucked her or fucked /with/ her or if he just loved her once -- but I went..." Duo swallowed. "I went back to L2 and rebuilt the Maxwell Church and the orphanage, and I attended school. I learned to sing, I learned to take care of myself alone. We're dangerous, we're lethally trained weapons of war, Tro. But I played with little kids. I taught one little girl to read -- like Father Maxwell taught me. I don't want to be a trained killer anymore. I don't want to be a terrorist any longer. In the beginning, it was kind of fun. Smashing things up, destroying buildings... But then the missions got more and more intense, and we were actually expected to kill /people/ not just structures. We were supposed to torture soldiers for information. Soldiers like /us/, dammit, just doing their job, following orders! Do you know how many fatherless kids, and husbandless women we have probably created? And then... Then, after all that, I found that girl. May Harper. And I just didn't fucking want to fucking do it anymore. I've had enough. See, that's why I can't be with you, Tro. Because Heero's been /there/ -- sleeping across the room from me sometimes -- he's seen me fall apart. I can't do that anymore, I don't have the luxury. But-- Fuck, I can't explain it. I loved him first, despite everything. He's /insane/, I think, sometimes. And I love him anyway. I don't know when this happened, I just know I couldn't give up on him, even if it takes the rest of my life. This war isn't my life anymore, and if I die fighting it, I just want to have been happy for a little while. That's why I'm with you right now. Because I may be in love with /him/, but I do love you, and I need someone right now. And I'm so sorry if that's cruel. But I have to be honest, and--"  
"Duo, shh. You've been talking without taking a breath for almost ten minutes."  
"Says that pilot who gave that three hour speech in Heavyarms," Duo interjected.  
"Not the point. I understand what you're saying. I don't lie, either, I just keep my mouth shut when I don't want to tell the truth. Now, listen, I can't pretend that your words don't hurt, that it doesn't hurt to love you while you love him." Trowa fell silent, and the hangar shimmered out of the corner of his eye. How was it possible that things could be so confused? How could he love Duo so much, and have Duo not even love him the same way? How could he even /think/ of cheating on his wife, waiting for him at home, waiting and waiting for her husband to come home, even if it was in a body bag. And then Duo's next move drove all of the questions out of his head. The longhaired pilot kissed him again, leisurely and slow, their mouths working together, their hearts beating in tandem, every nerve tingling in anticipation and fear. Fear, because both of their hearts belonged to other people. The magnitude of what he was doing crept into Trowa's consciousness, and he shook his head, breaking the kiss as he did so. He blew his long bangs out of his eyes, and drank in Duo's expression. The last time they had met like this, Trowa had been the initiator, hungry for the sight of Duo's body, the taste of his skin and smell of his hair. But now, he was uncertian, plagued by doubts, and so it was Duo who guided the taller pilot gently to the hangar floor, lips paying tribute to his jawline, eyelids fluttering, his braid tumbling over his shoulder to rest on Trowa's chest. Duo sank to the floor next to him, knees tucked under him, hands stroking circles and lines over Trowa's turtleneck.  
"Tell me you want this, that you understand what we're doing. I can't make love to you otherwise -- knowing you might regret it later. That you might--" For the second time Trowa shushed him, delicate fingertips against Duo's lips. Duo took the hand into his own and examined it. They had the same callouses, the same evidence of war and marks of combat, but the tips of Trowa's fingers were smooth and unblemished. In awe, Duo took one slender finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the knuckle, and the nail, and then drawing it back out. He returned Trowa's damp finger to him and smoothed Trowa's bangs off of his forehead. Trowa lay with one knee bent, the other leg extended, his hair a puddle on the hangar floor. Slowly Duo slid his body to cover Trowa's, languidly kissing his eyelids, his nose, and then he licked the curve of one high cheekbone.  
"God, Tro, you are so beautiful."  
"No--" Trowa was breathless, "you are." He managed to smile up at Duo, who cocked his head to the side and gazed at Trowa speculatively. Then he reached up, tugging his braid behind his back, and moments later it became apparent that he was unbraiding it, as reams of curled strands began to frame Duo's face. When he finished, he moved so that his knees were hugging Trowa's hips, and leaned down again, his hair falling to one side in a curtain, his mouth closing over Trowa's Adam's apple. Trowa could barely breathe. Above him he could see the hangar's high, wide ceiling, and the Gundams, slumbering peacefully around them, and he could feel the wiry strength in Duo's legs as they held him in place, and the power restrained in his chest. Trowa raised his arms and unbuttoned Duo's black shirt, pushing the halves to the side and admiring his chest. There were scars, of course, all the pilots had them, but Duo was still incomparable, even to Trowa's wife. He thought about her, but he dismissed her immediately. She would never know, and he would never tell her, and this would probably be his only chance to sleep with the beautiful teenager above him. Duo got to his feet, unbuckled his belt, unzipped his black jeans, and quickly took them off. As he prepared to lie back down, Trowa held up a hand.  
"Not yet. I want to look at you." He drank in the sight above him, the muscled abdomen, the strong biceps, the powerful thighs. There his gaze paused.  
"Duo-- how did you get scars in such a neat pattern like that?" he asked. Duo shook his head, hair swinging.  
"Don't worry about that now," he said, and knelt again. Once more his lips loved Trowa's neck and mouth, and then he helped Tro out of his clothes. At last they were both naked, and the lights above them seemed to dim. Trowa realised then it was because his eyes were closed. Their hands were everywhere on each other's bodies, and Trowa opened his eyes again, craving Duo's features, his expressions, as Duo entered his body. The lube they had used was Trowa's own saliva -- not a perfect substitute, but he didn't really want to use grease or motor oil -- and he threw his head back, nearly braining himself on the cement floor. Somehow the pain seemed barely noticeable, and the Gundams were a blur, and everything was blurring together. Duo's hair and thighs and skin and knees were all together, everything, mixed, in sharp relief and then wavering out of focus. The colour of his eyes was the last thing Trowa remembered as his climax sent his hips bucking into Duo's, and his back arched against the floor. The cement was freezing against his back, especially compared to the heat of Duo's body. When Duo came, his eyes fluttered closed, and he breathed so heavily Trowa thought the dead would hear it. The entire experience had been strangely silent. Duo sprawled out across Trowa's sweaty chest, fingers idly playing with his chest hair and his nipples. He traced little circles around the other teenager's navel as he began to speak, softly, hos orgasm still in his voice.  
"We've killed lots of people, you and I, Trowa. After awhile it gets to me in ways I can't ignore and can't cope with. Those neat little scars are my way if coping. I knew I shouldn't...but it seemed like if they were going to give their lives, then I could give a little blood." He stopped. Trowa ran his hands in and out of Duo's heavy mess of curls.  
"Is your hair always this curly, or is that from the near permanent braid?" Trowa whispered.  
"It's wavy, ordinarily, but it curls like this when I keep it always braided."  
"I don't think you should shed any more blood, Duo. I think-- Shit. I think you should go find Heero and have a serious talk with him. I really think you should." Trowa dropped his hand to the floor, a bit sore from the inadequate lubrication, and gazed at the ceiling again. He felt rather than saw Duo get up and begin gathering his clothes. He turned to watch Duo dress, and competently and quickly re-braid his hair. He watched the long beautiful legs eat up the distance to the hangar door. When the door closed, he looked back up at the ceiling, and lay, cold and naked on the cement floor. He knew he would have to get up and dress soon, but the memory of Duo was burned into his skin and his soul. He would give up his wife, his baby, his very life for a few more moments as Duo's lover, but he knew it wasn't going to be. He would have to content himself with his wife, who, while second-best, was still brilliantly lovely and intelligent. He hoped she would never find out about what Trowa and Duo had had during the war. He hoped she would never learn that he'd married her, left her after three days to go to war, and then had a fling with his fellow soldier. Trowa sighed and yanked his hand through his tangled bangs. Not so unusual, he felt guilty.  
"Oh, Duo, I love you," he said to the hangar, the Gundams. At last he sat up, still naked, and stared at the closed door for a long time before getting his clothes. He, too, left the hangar alone.

~end. ch. 24~


	26. Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is stage three of the fic. This is also the last chapter I wrote.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /italics/

Duo knocked on the door of the room given to Heero, and waited anxiously for a response. He was well-aware that he had just slept with someone else -- and a friend and fellow pilot no less -- and he hoped Heero wouldn't be able to read that knowledge in his eyes. After all, it wasn't as if Heero had seemed to care that they had separated. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he recalled Heero asking that they move in together, back when it appeared that they might actually have a relationship. But Duo had refused, mostly because his current plans had not included anyone else, and Heero, after that, had gone back to Earth to be Relena's bodyguard. He really didn't seem interested in contacting Duo. In fact, he had not done so until it was necessary -- and when Quatre had suggested it. Duo sighed. He knocked again. Lost in his own thoughts, he had barely realised that Heero wasn't answering. He pushed the door open, only to be faced with a sight that made him catch his breath. A sharp pain exploded in his chest. Heero was sprawled on his bed, head pillowed on one arm, his left leg bent and his foot resting on his other knee. It was adorable. In all the time Duo had known him, he had never seen Heero sleep with such abandon. His hair was a tangled mess over his shoulders, still much longer than Duo remembered. He sighed again. He didn't relish the prospect of waking Heero -- it could be a dangerous endeavor. He knew it was dangerous to wake himself, as well, but that didn't make waking Heero any easier. It wasn't just because they needed to talk, either. They had a new mission, one that involved a lot of wanton destruction -- Duo's favourite kind of mission. As long as they didn't have to kill too many people.  
'Bah, some terrorist I am, I'm not even willing to kill to obtain my objective anymore,' Duo thought in disgust. As Duo watched Heero sleep, he suddenly remembered his earliest impressions of Wing's pilot, and that in the time he'd known him he didn't think Heero realised how feminine he looked. Actually, Duo mused, he didn't seem as feminine anymore. Duo didn't know if that was because Heero had really changed, or if Duo's impressions had changed. He'd never seen a girl break someone's neck with one hand, after all. He /had/ seen Heero do it -- Duo still wanted to know how he'd managed it with one hand. It should have been impossible, but then, Heero seemed good at making the impossible possible. Idly Duo wondered if Relena had it in her to coldbloodedly kill someone. He doubted it. He wasn't even sure why he was thinking of Relena at that precise moment. Duo ruthlessly ran a hand through his bangs. They were only sixteen years old, he realised in shock. They were young teenagers, and they should have been making trouble, being rebellious, like the teens in the school he'd attended -- instead, they were hiding out in secret, performing deadly missions that most seasoned OZ soldiers wouldn't have been trusted with, and trained as the most efficient killers humans could possibly be. Duo had to admit that of the five of them, Heero and Trowa seemed to be the most efficient killers, although, Quatre had been pretty brutal when assassinating Walker. But that was the mission objective, and Quatre had never shirked a mission any more than any of the others had. Duo closed the door behind him as softly as he could, and sat cross-legged on the floor. If he was going to think, he was going to do it privately. Heero made a noise in his sleep, shifted positions on the bed. Duo found himself smiling. He had missed Heero very much in the months they'd been apart. He was a little surprised by that fact, but not completey averse to it. He wondered if Heero had missed him at all. He wondered, too, if Heero could have understood Duo's reasons for not wanting to move in together right away. All of a sudden, it dawned on Duo that perhaps he should have tried to explain himself to Heero. /Would/ the other pilot have understood? Duo even considered the possibility that Heero would be willing to move in with him on L2, with his new church and orphanage, endeavors that meant a great deal to him. He immediately dismissed the idea. Heero was Heero, after all. He would never do anything for someone else that wasn't some sort of mission. Duo could manipulate him, he supposed, but strangely he found that he didn't want to do that to someone he cared about. That was a new and rather disturbing development, he thought. He had gotten used to manipulation and coercion to get what he needed to survive, and his conscience had slumbered for years. Suddenly it was awake. As was Heero, Duo realised with a start. The other pilot was leaning over the bottom of his bed, curiously eyeing Duo. With yet another shock, Duo acknowledged that Heero didn't seem royally pissed off. That was unusual.  
"Duo," Heero began, "what are you doing sitting on the floor, at the bottom of my bed?"  
"Well, I knocked," Duo climbed to his feet, a little stiff, "but you didn't reply, so I opened the door, and then I got to thinking. So I sat down."  
"You know, lots of things have changed since we parted last."  
"I know," Duo said.  
"Don't interrupt. I spent a lot of time with Relena, and what I realised is, well, two things. She's grown up a lot, Duo. She's not the same annoying girl we tripped over our feet to get away from. And she taught me a few things."  
"Of course," Duo muttered. He glared down at his feet. All the time he had spent with Heero, and the other pilot hadn't learned anything? He had just learned it all from Relena. 'That's it,' Duo thought, 'I've lost. She's finally won him over and this is the official brush-off speech.'  
"Don't interrupt, I said. She taught me that for all my training, in social concerns, I'm a child. I know next to nothing. She told me, Duo, that I was crazy to have said goodbye. That--" Heero couldn't go on yet.  
"Lovely," Duo said. "You /did/ say goodbye, Mr. I'm-a-genius. You didn't even contact me all those months. What was I supposed to think?" Duo nearly shouted. Heero's eyes widened, yet another unexpected occurrence. He looked baffled.  
"I don't recall telling you what you were supposed to think."  
"You punched me in the fucking jaw, Heero. You acted like you cared and then you fucking slugged me! I can't fucking believe you, Heero. You know what? You think you have no fucking emotions. Well, dammit, you do. You don't punch someone you don't care about. The opposite of love is /indifference/, Heero."  
"I know that, Duo. I'm sorry I punched you." That took the wind out of Duo's sails. Heero had apologised? Again? He had apologised once and that was startling enough. It was a shame, he thought. He'd had a really good rant beginning, and it was derailed.  
"You're sorry? You?" Duo could barely managed a coherent sentence.  
"Yes. Now could I finish?" When Duo nodded, Heero went on. "She told me, essentially, that I was being a fucking idiot. In fact--" Heero looked closer at Duo. He sat straight up on his bed. "You've been with someone else," he said dispassionately. "I wanted you to understand, and all this time you--"  
"It's not what you think, Heero. You've barely strung two words together since we were reunited, and you never even sent me so much as an email when we were apart. It really doesn't matter -- it's not like we're married!" he protested. Heero began to relax -- one more unusual first for him -- and later, he would remember this conversation and how he had trusted Duo. He would remember that it didn't occur to him that Duo might cheat. He would remember that he believed in Duo, then.  
"I was with Trowa, and it doesn't matter, because he /is/ married, and he's going to go home to his wife. Dammit, Heero, I had no hope left for you." Duo's traitorous voice nearly cracked, and he angrily looked away.  
"Well, Duo, it's not all my fault. I asked you-- I asked you something that is was difficult for me to ask, and you rejected me. I know now that I shouldn't have given in to the urge to punch you, but it's a little late now. But you've been keeping many things from me. I want the truth now. Why wouldn't you go home with me?" Heero refused to stop looking at Duo's face.  
"I--" Duo stopped. He met Heero's eyes. "I grew up on the streets of L2. It was vicious and violent, and most little kids died -- either by starvation or at the hands of one of the bigger kids. When I was, I don't know, six maybe, I was found and taken in by a priest. Father Maxwell. He placed me in the church orphanage, and a nun named Sister Helen used to take care of me. After a couple years we were attacked, and the church was destroyed. Both Father Maxwell and Sister Helen were killed. I held her head as she died..." Duo fought tears. It was one of the few things that could make him cry. "All the kids died, too. I took his last name and wore this outfit in honour of them. I owed them so much, Heero. I would've died on the streets if not for them. I was so small and underweight, and my hair was so long it just invited teasing -- cruel, dangerous teasing. I couldn't go live with you, Heero, because I had a job to do. I promised myself years ago that I would rebuild that church and that orphanage, and that I would try to save kids, like they saved me. It was a tribute. It was the only way I could think of to repay them, and to atone for the deaths."  
"But you didn't kill them, Duo."  
"I might as well have."  
"But you didn't."  
"I /did/, Heero. I left them alone to try and steal a Gundam to protect them. Oddly enough, attempting to steal a Gundam made them choose me to pilot one of the things."  
"That doesn't mean you killed them. What else did you do in the break?" Heero asked curiously. Duo glanced up at his partner again. It was strange to see Heero acting so human. He had changed a hell of a lot. "Relena's a great teacher of social proprieties. Being a diplomat and all." Great, now he was a mind reader, too.  
"I went back to school. I learned to sing -- you know that part. I tried to become a normal citizen, and then I found out I'll always be a murderer, a soldier."  
"We all are." Heero, pensive? Duo thought in shock. He was getting a lot of shocks today. "That may be how we were trained, but it doesn't mean we have to kill everything we see. We're intelligent people, Duo."  
"We're practically children. Can you imagine? When these wars are finally over, and the world realises that their main saviours were a bunch of homicidal children -- and that their greatest facilitator of peace was a teenage girl who likes too much pink?"  
"She doesn't have as much pink as she used to," Heero mused. "But you still went to Trowa. Why?"  
"Because I'm a little bit in awe of him and a little bit in love with him. He's really beautiful, Heero."  
"I know."  
"I still c-care about you, though. I just thought it was over, no more chances."  
"Shall we try again?" Heero said, and the next thing Duo knew Heero was kneeling in front of him. "It's been a long time," he whispered, and claimed Duo's mouth with his own. After a few moments, Duo jerked away, breathless and mightily confused.  
"Why now?"  
"Because, you idiot, as I have been trying to tell you, Relena convinced me that I ought never to have left."  
"Heero -- do you understand what you're doing? What we're doing? I know that this is what I wanted -- for you to care what happens to me, to us -- but are you even gay?"  
"Does it matter?"  
"Yeah, it does. I'm bisexual, and I was in love with Trowa's wife for awhile there. But I've never--" Duo stopped, wondering if he should continue. There was never lying, and then there was uncalled for honesty.  
"What?"  
"I've never felt like this with anyone else. You make me so fucking confused I can't even see straight. With Caro, with Trowa, I always knew where I was, what I was doing. With you it's like the world stops and I don't know whether to get off, or whether to keep kissing you and hope that the world starts turning again."  
"Well, that's the point. I have to be in control, you know," Heero said smugly. Duo would have fallen down if he could have. As it was he nearly fell off the floor anyway. Heero had made a joke!  
"Are you sick?"  
"I've learned a lot, Duo. The sad aspect is that everything that makes me a better human makes me a worse soldier. Enjoy this, because it can't last."  
"Oh. Heero, you never answered my question. What if you're not gay, and we try again, and you find some woman that you--"  
"Oh, shut up, Duo. You're stressing. I was with Relena, remember? She didn't do it for me, even if I thought she could. But you... You change me in fundamental ways, and it's disconcerting. I felt things around you that I wasn't supposed to feel. I don't know if I'm gay, Duo, I just know it doesn't matter. It took me months to realise that sometimes, you care about who you care about. You could be gay, Duo, and then fall in love with a woman. Sexuality is fluid, changing. It all depends on your heart, Duo." Heero finished. Duo fell onto his back on the floor. He'd officially heard everything. He could die, now, because Heero had just lectured /him/ on things that Duo would absolutely /swear/ he knew nothing about a year ago.  
"Are you okay, Duo?"  
"Oh, sure, I'm fine. I can die now. You have officially killed me."  
"Why?"  
"Because," Duo sat up, "I know a lot more about sex. And I've been in love with both sexes before. I just wanted to make sure you were certain."  
"Just don't spend any more unsupervised time with Trowa," Heero suggested. He wondered -- not for the last time -- if Duo had slept with Trowa, or just sought emotional comfort from him. Duo examined the face of the pilot he'd somehow fallen for.  
"Heero, this may not be the best time for this, but I've figured one thing out. I missed you so much, so unexpectedly, while we were apart. I love you, Heero. I may have gone to Trowa, or Caro, or anyone, but I've loved you for a long time now. I just didn't recognise it for what it was until -- oh, probably right this moment."  
"Thank you, Duo." Heero leaned forward and kissed Duo again. It was a shame, Duo thought, that in all the ways Heero had changed, he still was the same Heero. No words of love from the stolid soldier.

~end ch. 25~


End file.
